


Book 3: The World of Men

by Isuvviaraq



Series: The Beautiful Beast [4]
Category: No Fandom, 陰陽師 | Onmyoji (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Forced Marriage, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 75,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isuvviaraq/pseuds/Isuvviaraq
Summary: The final Book of the Beautiful Beast series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting drunk with Yasha now would be the height of stupidity.

Things didn’t take long to go back to normal after the incident with the puppy. I was still listless and spacy, and Yasha was still horny and full of himself most of the time. Still… there were some noticeable changes – things that I noticed in passing but never thought worth remark. For one thing, while Yasha hadn’t _stopped _telling me to smile, he did it far less in the coming days. In fact, he wasn’t around as much at all.

Always before, it was as likely as not that Yasha would be in the mood for sex as soon as he woke up, and I would wake up caught in his arms as he penetrated my anus. But now, unless I woke up at night and went on reading early into the morning, I wouldn’t even see my husband until dinner time. And he was more irritable as well… He was never violent with me, but his patience was short. Sometimes, he would call my name more than once as he tried to get my attention. Then when I finally looked at him, he’d give up with a scornful mutter of, ‘forget it.’ I never pressed him to continue. It was all the same to me.

Then one day… It might have been two weeks or two months later, and Yasha and I were taking our evening bath. Suddenly he turned my cheek toward him to make sure he had my attention. “Hiro-chan… are you listening?” I nodded demurely. “I have something I’m going to be doing soon which… is going to keep me busy for a while. I may not be back for a few days.” His tone was gentle, the way one might talk to a child, and his eyes were full of concern.

I sat for a moment processing this, then met his eyes and asked, “How long?”

“Probably…” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Probably about three days. It could be longer, but… I’m gonna be back as soon as possible.” I continued to scan his face, observing all the signs of worry and drawing no conclusions. “I’ve already made sure that you’ll have enough food to last until I get back. Just… make sure that you eat, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Hiro-chan, I’m serious. I know that sometimes you forget… You’re so much trouble that way… So try to eat extra helpings and snacks while I’m away.” He laid a hand on my side, flashing me a wolfish smirk. “You can afford it. I don’t like you getting too thin.”

“Alright.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“So what’s the plan?”

He asked me to repeat all the facts to him from memory, and then had me recite the plan twice more before he went to bed. When we finally went to sleep, Yasha insisted on wrapping his arms around me and clinging to me throughout the night. Surprisingly, the only time I woke up was in the morning as he began to rise from bed, and he gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, Hiro-chan,” he whispered. “Take care of yourself.” I was asleep again before I could hear his departure.

The next day, it was surprisingly easy to get out of bed. Perhaps the knowledge that I would be left alone for a while put me at my ease. I checked on the stored food and found that, sure enough, Yasha had left me enough to last a week. There were even 8 fresh eggs from about five different kinds of bird. He’d even prepared a few onigiri with picked plum centers and left them in a napkin on the table for me.

I toyed for a while with the idea of disobeying Yasha’s request and refusing to eat while he was away. It would be a wonderfully cruel thing to do to him. I could almost imagine the look on his face when he came back and saw that I’d been wasting away in his absence. Plus, it would mean I wouldn’t have to keep getting out of bed every day and could just rest.

I actually tried to test the theory by going back to bed and ignoring the offering that had been left for me. But after about an hour, I began to notice a few flaws in the plan. For one thing, I was already hungry and thirsty, and the sight of those onigiri was strong in my memory. The dozen gourds of water lined up close to the cookpot likewise tempted me. At this rate, would I even make it to tomorrow before I caved to hunger?

Then, there were some flaws in the basic concept as well. Yasha had said he was planning to be back in 3 days. I knew it would take longer than that to starve to death, and I couldn’t possibly resist the urge to drink for that long – not when my supply was so abundant and in such close reach. By the time Yasha got back, I might be severely ill, but not dead. He’d chide me for not listening to him, nurse me back to health over the next few claustrophobic days, and then he’d be reluctant to even let me out of his sight thereafter. It wouldn’t be worth it in the end.

Perspective thus gained, I ate the onigiri and spent the day relaxing. It was actually pleasant. That evening, my meditations went well, and I concentrated on my hatred for the demon right up until bed. It was somewhat unfortunate that I couldn’t bathe while Yasha was gone, but since we hadn’t had sex that day, there was hardly a need.

That night, I woke up briefly and rolled over to where Yasha usually slept. It was empty. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

My good mood persisted through the morning. But, though it shames me to say it, I was bored come evening. There wasn’t a single book that I hadn’t read at least six times already, and all the books that needed copying were already copied. The blank scrolls Yasha had given me for writing poetry had hardly been touched since I’d received them, and I felt no desire to write in them now.

Poetry just wasn’t one of my talents.

The next day, I decided I would try to do some light exercise to alleviate the boredom. It didn’t help much… but I suppose it was good for me. I was more out of shape than I’d realized. After lunch, I was leaning over the empty bath tub and singing every song I knew to hear how they echoed. I had to ask myself then, was this lonely tedium better or worse than having Yasha around for company? It _was _better, I concluded, but it wouldn’t be forever. Maybe if the realm wasn’t so small…

Another thought occurred to me: What if Yasha _wasn’t _coming back? What if he had finally gotten sick of my moping and left me here to starve?

And then I made myself laugh. _Fat chance of that. Nice thought, though. _

Sure enough, he was back by afternoon of the next day, springing through the barrier just as I was curling up my legs for the night’s meditation.

“I’m home!” he called right as my eyes were closed. I opened them again and saw Yasha landing in a crouch with his sack slung over one arm. It was so full that he’d had to tie it off with a length of rope to make sure none of its contents would spill out.

As soon as his feet were planted, and before I could return his greeting, Yasha slung the bag off his shoulder, let it drop onto the floor with a clamor, then leapt across the distance between us to catch me in his arms and send us rolling over the ground. He peppered my face with kisses, and his hands roved over my body as though frantically searching me for something. All the while his breath kept puffing against my skin in spurts of barely restrained giggling. If his goal was to make me feel better about not having a puppy by imitating one himself, then it wasn’t a terrible impersonation. Not that it would have worked.

Lucky for him, though, he had interrupted me just before I was able to refresh my hatred for him, and my days spent in solitude had put me in a tolerant mood. Despite the tickling of his kisses on my neck, I finally managed to deliver a calm, “Welcome home.”

Finally, he let up the kisses and grinned at me, laying beneath me on the stone floor where he’d finally stopped, his arms locked around my waist. “Hey there, Hiro-chan,” he said softly. Something in his smile made me uncomfortable. It was a little _too _earnest. Too much for my liking. “I’ve missed you.”

As soon as he said it, something in his eyes deepened a little bit – became both earnest and melancholy. His hands slid up nearer to my shoulders, and there was a tremor or… suggestion of a tremor in how his arms squeezed me to his chest. “Fuck,” he whispered, “I… I had no idea how bad I was gonna miss you. I couldn’t get you off my mind. I just wanted to come back as soon as possible.” To my surprise, a look of definite shyness crossed his face. It seemed jarringly out of keeping with the image I had of the demon. “Did… you miss me too?”

I emphasized my surprise at the question to hide my momentary panic. This wasn’t a question I was prepared for, and it wouldn’t do to spoil the demon’s good mood so quickly. So I affected a smile and provided an oblique but truthful answer. “I thought of you at every hour, Yasha-kun.”

It was like dropping a match into a pile of tinder. His face lit up, and then he rolled on top of me, running his fingers through my hair, rubbing my neck and shoulders and chest, and kissing my lips until I thought the was going to smother me. I endured all of this with a quiet feeling of expectant dread, knowing it wouldn’t be long now until Yasha decided it was time to collect his ‘reward’ for the expedition. I could feel the weighty bulge of his crotch pressing into my thighs. Any second now, it would stiffen, Yasha would peel off my clothes, and he’d ‘take what’s his.’

But to my surprise, just as I felt the bulging fabric stir against my leg, the demon pulled back with a bright grin. “Alright! Dinner time!”

I watched in disbelief as he rose to his feet and started to walk over to the cook fire. I wasn’t about to complain, but this was unusual. Then my eyes settled on the bag still lying at the edge of the realm. “Hey,” I called, sitting up. “Weren’t you… going to show me what you brought back?” I winced a little, angry at my own curiosity.

He threw a sly grin over his shoulder. “All in good time, Hiro-chan. Dinner first, then bath, and then you’ll see what I have prepared for you.”

That _was _irregular. Still, though he was trying to be casual about it, I could sense his eagerness underneath. What _had _he been doing all this time?

Then I shook my head. _What are you doing, Sato no Hiroshi? Don’t you start to get invested in his schemes. Isn’t it always just when you’re starting to let your guard down that he hurts you the worst? You ought to know better by now._

“You’ve eaten almost all the eggs!” said Yasha delightedly, interrupting my train of thought. “And half the pickled plums… and even quite a few of the peppers.”

“Uh… yeah…” It took a moment to remember why this was so exciting to him.

“And there are no apples left!” he added with a rueful laugh.

“Um… sorry.”

Yasha looked over his shoulder again, then crossed the distance between us with a single leap. He knelt in front of me and started to rub the top of my head affectionately. “Don’t apologize. I’m proud of you. It’s reassuring to see you taking care of yourself. I would happily give up knowing the taste of apples forever to give them all to you, my princess.”

My ears, face and chest all started burning. I’m not sure, though, whether it was the sentiment or the word ‘princess’ that made me blush so hard. “Uh… ah… y…”

He giggled again and kissed me on the lips, giving my hair one last, fond tousle. “So cute!” Then he walked back over to the food storage and started pulling out a few ingredients while he spoke. “But for tonight, I think we’ll have something simpler. Rice porridge with beans and garlic… and then some pickled plums to freshen our breath afterward.”

While Yasha cooked, and throughout dinner, I tried to sink discreetly into my meditative hate-trance. After all my practice, I could get into the right mindset fairly quickly, but… there was a reason why I always did it when Yasha wasn’t around. It was too easy for me to be interrupted. I just hadn’t learned to shut out physical distractions. And tonight, Yasha’s first evening back in three days, he was in an _especially _chatty mood. Every time I finally got three minutes of quiet, Yasha would start talking about something he did or saw in his travels, or he would ask me for the details of what I did and thought in his absence.

Eventually, I had to abandon the prospect of attaining hate-trance, because it just wasn’t possible to switch between meditation and playacting the role of Yasha’s devoted wife at a moment’s notice.

When we got in the bath, I tried to _at least _keep fresh the memories of what a violent, lecherous, narcissistic brat he was in order to keep my guard up. But the was so… nice to me. He still used _ore-sama _exclusively and never referred to himself with humility, but he also praised me with compliments and flattery. Throughout the bath, he continued to sprinkle my head, cheeks, and neck with kisses, and he rubbed my shoulders, waist, and back pleasantly. Yet he never once rubbed my nipples, or ground his cock against my back, or made any other kind of sexual advance. The incongruity between this Yasha and the one I knew was… off-putting. The only time he even teased me verbally was once when he laughed and called me a ‘tsundere’ because I wouldn’t let him give me a kiss on the lips.

_Don’t let him trick you! _said the voice of reason in my head. _He might be acting nice, but that’s all it is: an act. It doesn’t change the essential fact of who he is. Remember, he’s the man who killed your family. _

_ He killed your family. _

_ He killed your family. _

_ He killed your family. _

I knew this to be true. Yet, my heart strained against my attempts to remind it. That scared the hell out of me.

Once we were both washed and dressed, Yasha had me sit at the table again and brought over the bulging sack. I did my best to stifle my anticipation as he slowly untied the cord. From the top of the pile inside, he removed a small, cloth bundle and set it on the table in front of me. This was tied shut with just a thin, white string.

“Open it,” Yasha said, grinning.

I furrowed my brow, glancing between the tiny bundle in front of me and the huge sack at Yasha’s side, then reached for the white string. The bundle made a faint clatter, as of something small and hard, but neither wood nor metal. As I unfastened the knot, the cloth dropped away to reveal a pair of fine ceramic sake cups. They were all black inside and out but for the streaks of gold kintsugi where they had once been shattered. I barely had time to appreciate them before Yasha produced a large bottle of sake from the sack and set it down on the table just behind the cups.

“Tada!” He grinned at me proudly.

I shifted my gaze back and forth between him and the bottle on the table. “Sake? But I… I’ve only ever seen you drink it once because you were sick. I didn’t think you _liked _sake.” 

Yasha offered me a very different kind of grin then. “Oh no, I do like sake. But I know what _quality _sake tastes like, and I can hardly stomach any other kind.”

I glanced again at the bottle on the table, then at the bag beside him. “So… _all _of that is sake?” My heart began to flutter nervously.

He looked so smug as he scooted up beside me and laid a kiss on top of my head. “Well, this _is _my first time drinking with my wife. I wanted to make sure we had enough for the whole evening.”

“This is… ‘enough for the whole evening’?” To me, it looked like enough for three or four evenings one after the other.

“Or for one king’s ransom,” he said with a note of irony. I looked at him curiously, but Yasha was already reaching out to uncork the first bottle. “So, shall we get started?”

A jolt of caution suddenly ran through me, and I stammered to find an excuse. “Uh… I… I hate to say it, but I’ve never really liked sake much.”

Yasha didn’t even hesitate, setting my cup in front of me and filling it to the brim. “You’ve probably never had good sake before.”

A sweat was breaking out on my back. I had drunk sake before, and I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t like it. It wasn’t just the taste, although that was certainly part of it – it was the effect. Plenty of people love sake for its ability to lower inhibitions and make emotions swing more freely. For myself, though, I’d always disliked that aspect of it even back before I had a reason to be cautious. Getting drunk with Yasha now would be the height of stupidity.

“But… what if I don’t like it?” I put forward weakly.

Yasha filled his own cup, then set the bottle down and held my cup up to me. “Trust me… It’s not possible to dislike _this _sake.”

I hesitated, looking between Yasha’s confident, understated smile and the cup in front of me. He was in a good mood right now. Would he tolerate my refusal?

No, of course not. He was in a good mood precisely _because _of this sake. If I refused it, I’d have his wrath back with interest. And in the end, he’d find _some _way to make me drink. Perhaps I should just…

“Hiro-chan.” I blinked. Yasha had been watching my face the whole time, and apparently he had seen something of my turmoil reflected on my features. “It’s okay,” he said, gentle in both voice and expression. “Just taste it. It’s only me here.”

_No escape. _“Alright,” I sighed, accepting the cup.

Yasha grinned happily and leaned toward me, touching his forehead to mine for an instant. There was something frightfully disarming about the gesture. “Here’s to you, my Hiro-chan. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Then he tapped his cup against mine. “Kampai.”

I still felt off-kilter from the earnestness of his words and gestures. “Kampai…” I replied. Then I poured the sake into my mouth.

The moment it touched my tongue, I could tell that this truly was unlike other sake. I can’t possibly do justice to it in words. It was so light – so… ‘soft,’ if that word applies – that I barely felt it at all. On my tongue, I felt a sort of… line: the separation where the sake ended and the empty space inside my mouth began. But I couldn’t tell which half was which. The taste was so subtle that, at first, I didn’t think it even _had _a taste. Then I noticed it – a kind of pure, fragile sweetness, like…

Did you ever catch snowflakes on your tongue as a child? The first time you ever did, you probably expected them to taste sweet. It may even have been a disappointment to learn that snow has no flavor. But if you can go back to that moment when you stood out in the falling snow, and you stuck your tongue out to catch one of the drifting crystals, holding your breath in expectant, innocent awe while you waited for…

_That’s _what the sake tasted like. Then I swallowed the gulp of liquid, and the pure, clear, distilled essence of the sweetness that had been in the sake was left clinging to my tongue. I imagined a bee alighting on the first lily to push its way through the snow, stretching its wings in the sun’s radiance. The sweetness within the sake was like a tiny acorn, and the sweetness it left behind was the great old man of an oak it would someday become.

I didn’t realize that I’d closed my eyes until I opened them again and saw Yasha staring at me expectantly. “Well?”

I… god, this is going to sound so stupid, but… in that moment, I was so aware of the _kami_, the spirit within the sake, that I couldn’t bring myself to lie or downplay my reaction. It’s like… like the sake were a respectable man to whom I owed a debt of honor. If I didn’t say what I really felt, I would be _insulting _the sake. It deserved to hear my genuine feelings, even if it meant Yasha would hear them too.

“If this is what sake is… then I’ve surely never tasted sake before. It tastes sweet and clean and… holy.” The last word made me blush. I resolved to stop talking then, lest I go too far and spoil the praise.

It seemed to be enough for Yasha. He grinned from ear to ear and lifted the bottle. “I told you so.” He tilted another helping of sake into his cup, and I found myself slipping my own toward him before I could stop to think about it. The demon grinned, looking incredibly self-satisfied, and then he filled my cup as well.

It was hard to feel too embarrassed, though. One cup was hardly enough to satisfy. We tapped our cups together, and the second draft went down just as well as the first. The sigh I let out afterward made me feel more relaxed than Yasha’s most extensive acupuncture.

My husband leaned in so that his chest pressed against my shoulder, then lay a kiss on the top of my head and reached again for the bottle. “One more?”

This was the critical moment. Now that I’d willingly had two cups of sake and shown my appreciation for Yasha’s gift, this would be the time to test his patience and try to wheedle my way out of drinking any more. And I needed to make up my mind before the sake reached my head. Truthfully, there was a significant part of me that wanted to just keep drinking because I was in a good mood, and Yasha was in a good mood, and I knew that neither were going to last, and it _really was _good sake.

I reexamined my earlier premise – that getting drunk with Yasha would be the height of stupidity. It had seemed obvious a minute ago, and I’d drank too little on a full stomach to worry that I was tipsy, but already it didn’t seem nearly so certain as it had. What would happen if I _did_ let myself drink with him – worst case scenario? My husband would get me into bed? I’d say something embarrassing? Really, there was nothing he could get me to do drunk that he couldn’t already make me do sober. No additional humiliation he could add that a decent night’s sleep wouldn’t daub clean.

The whole calculation only took a few seconds, covered up by a protracted, “Hmmmmm.” At last, I affected the most casual, offhand smile I could muster and accompanied it with a little shrug. “Sure. What the hell.”

Thankfully, Yasha was willing to slow down a little after the third cup. He leaned back with a happy sigh, then started to expand on his story of the last three days’ exploits, of which he’d given only incidental details up to now. I listened, and the story only seemed to grow more and more interesting as a warm halo of intoxication began to brighten around my head. It turns out, his earlier description of his prize as a ‘king’s ransom’ had been more than boast.

About a week ago, Yasha had swum far afield to eavesdrop close to a castle. There, he’d learned about a shipment of the finest sake in Japan expected to be arriving in a matter of days. He formed his entire plan on the spot and had rushed back to the realm to provide me with enough supplies to wait out its enactment. It would take some time, and we’d have to be apart for a while, but the celebration would make it all worth it.

His chief difficulty was that he didn’t know precisely which cart would contain the shipment. The road near the castle was a critical trade route, and heavily guarded merchant caravans were a daily sight. Yasha would give away his identity too soon if he started ransacking random carts and disappearing in a blur, and then an onmyoji would be dispatched to deal with him.

So at the chosen time, Yasha snuck into the castle and kidnapped the shogun’s son and only legitimate heir. (He explained that if he’d kidnapped the shogun himself, the son might have seen this as his chance for ascension and ruined his plan.) He left a letter instructing that the delivery be halted at the border of the shogun’s lands, and the sake lain out on a cloth in plain sight. There, the exchange could be effected.

At this point in the story, Yasha had built suspense by pouring us each two more drinks, thus finishing up the first bottle. Then he sat back, asked me to pick out another one, and pour us each a drink so he could continue uninterrupted. I was sufficiently intrigued to go along without complaining.

The shogun and his retainers had done as expected, following Yasha’s orders on the surface while stationing archers in concealed positions to bring down their ‘audacious bandit.’ The demon made sure to make the kidnapping look like the work of a human, and so there was not an onmyoji to be seen. The archers would be to no avail. Once the sake was out on display, and the shogun called out into the night for the kidnapper to ‘take what he came here for,’ Yasha rushed in with superhuman speed. He snatched up all the sake in the cloth on which it had been laid, then left the bound-and-gagged shogun’s heir in their place.

One especially sharp-eyed archer had caught a glimpse of the demon as he crouched by the cloth and shot an arrow at his afterimage. According to Yasha, the arrow just barely missed the heir’s head, whizzed past, then punctured the rear edge of the sandal of the shogun himself – who’d had his back to the archer in question. The sandal’s heel was splintered all to hell, but not a drop of blood was shed. Personally, even drunk, I thought this last bit of the story sounded like flagrant embellishment, but it was damn entertaining either way.

By the time this story was finished, the second bottle was nearly empty. Yasha then pulled out a third, heated up a pot of water, and set the bottle inside to warm while we finished off the second. The third bottle was at a perfect body temperature by the time we opened it, and we took turns filling each other’s cups to finish it off before it got cold.

At this point, Yasha decided we need something to munch on and pulled out a few strips of eel he’d been keeping in brine. These he skewered, brushed with soy, then laid over a swiftly rekindled fire to toast before opening a fourth bottle. As per usual, I allowed my husband to do most of the talking throughout the night and only contributed the blandest and safest personal details I could manage. Whenever I _did _speak, though, Yasha always listened as if he found me fascinating. It made it hard not to feel bashful, even when only talking about simple things. I was grateful when the eel skewers were ready and I was spared needing to speak. It was also nice to complement the sweet sake with something rich and savory.

Then, sometime after I’d already lost count of the bottles, I blundered. I reached out to fill Yasha’s cup for him, and I knocked the bottle of priceless sake over onto the table. I jolted in my seat, feeling panic sweep through me, already hearing an echo of the demon’s harsh, angry voice shouting in my head.

The shout never came. Instead, he just laughed and rapped his knuckles against the top of my head – unpleasant, but not painful. “Hiro-chan, you clumsy fool!” he boomed, laughing all the while. “You should’ve known you were at your limit by now.”

Heat spread across my face. “S-sorry. I’ll clean it up…”

As I started to stand up, though, Yasha rested a hand on my shoulder and pressed me gently back into my seat. “Don’t trouble yourself, Hiro-chan. Just let your gallant husband take care of it.” With that, he flashed me a winning smile that made me feel genuinely bashful before he got up to fetch a towel and a damp rag.

It was while Yasha was cleaning up the spill that my mind began to open up some long-dormant memories. Abruptly, I started laughing my head off. Yasha actually flinched, it was so out of nowhere. After a moment, he gave me a nervous smirk. “What? You do remember it was _you _who made this mess, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” I said as soon as I could recapture a semblance of composure. “It just reminded me of something else.”

Now Yasha’s smirk grew a little interested. “Oh?” He casually tossed the towel and rag aside, pulled yet another bottle out of the bag, and sat down beside me while refilling both our cups.

“It was years ago, when I was about 14,” I said, pulling my cup toward me but making no other move to drink it. I had my laughter under control now, but I was still grinning like an idiot. “We had a really big printing order come in from Mr. Shiragawa, and my father had been so afraid that we wouldn’t meet the deadline. But we did it! We had just finished the last prints when Shiragawa’s men arrived, and they were able to dry while the men rested from the road overnight.

“Father was so relieved that he bought a bottle of sake to celebrate. Mom can’t tolerate sake, and I was the only one of my brother’s not to inherit her intolerance. So… Dad was more or less drinking by himself. I still remember his goofy grin…” I had to stop for a moment to vent a few titters at the image.

“So anyway, my seven-year-old sister reaches out to help herself to more soup, and she accidentally knocks over Dad’s bottle. Oh, he was furious! He turned to her and yelled, ‘Look at this, you clumsy, bad girl! What did you do that for?’

“But then, while he was shouting and leaning closer to her, my mother rises halfway up from her seat, leaning across the table at Father, and – I’d never heard her yell before, but she starts shouting, ‘Sato no Yuki! I don’t care how much that sake cost or how much you drank, but I swear by every god that if you strike our daughter, you will never sleep in this house again!’

“Well my dad, he calms down in a right hurry and goes all pale, seeing Mother’s angry face. But then my little sister hugs him around the waist and leans over his lap all protective-like, and she shouts back, ‘Mommy, how can you say something so mean? He wasn’t going to do that! Daddy wasn’t going to hit me!’ And she looks up at him and says, ‘Were you, Daddy?’”

Here I had to break off my narrative so I could lean back, cackling and holding my belly. “And oh my god, you could never picture a more pitifully sentimental face. His lip is quivering and he touches my little sister’s hair, and he says, ‘No, Sayako sweetheart. I could never… never hurt you. Not my precious little girl.’ And then the tears start coming.

“And little sis leans up and hugs his chest, and she’s shouting, ‘Daddy! No, don’t cry! It’s my fault – I _did _spill the sake, so you’re right to be mad at me. Don’t cry!’ But she’s already crying now, too!

“And my dad hugs her, all sniffling and shaking, and he says, ‘No, no, your mother is right. It’s just sake. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You’re so incalculably more precious than some dumb, cheap bottle of sake.’ And then they’re just holding each other and rocking back and forth and blubbering during dinner.” I could see Yasha grinning, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he listened.

I took the chance to drain my cup before continuing. “By now, Mom has settled back down and has this little smirk on her lips now that things have turned out okay. My oldest brother and I were laughing and sneaking looks at each other, but we kept it under our breath. My second brother, though – he’s rolling his eyes like he can’t believe he has to live with these idiots. Two minutes later, and they’re _still _blubbering, and so he leaves and asks us to call him back inside when the fruit’s being served.”

By this point, my belly ached from laughing so hard, and there were a few tears in my eyes. I couldn’t remember a time I’d laughed like this. More striking than that, though… My memories were so clear right then. “God, it all seems so clear to me…” I wiped at my face, trying to catch my breath and still shaking with laughter. “I remember the corners of Dad’s mustache glistening with tears, and how my sister’s hair almost blended in with the black of his kimono. I remember my mother’s quiet smirk, and how it was almost the shape of the scar on her neck – I heard three different stories about how she got that scar and _still _don’t know which one was true.” I wipe my face again, this time with both hands. “I remember my second brother’s sneer, and how he looked so disdainful, but you could tell the love in his patience. I remember…” At some point I hadn’t marked, the memory became so strong and clear that it practically blotted out my sight of the real world.

I knew that I was in the realm and sitting with Yasha, but I was more aware of my family, and our dining room, and the sound of their voices, and… Then I noticed that I wasn’t laughing anymore. I was crying. Weeping. I had been for a while, but I didn’t notice the transition. The moment I noticed that I was crying, it got worse. I felt a hard, clenching pain in my chest, and I cried even harder.

I pressed the heels of my hands into soaking-wet eyes, but the vision of my family’s dining room was still there, crystal clear. “It hurts…” I could see them. I could hear their voices as if they were right next to me. But they couldn’t see me or hear me, and they had no idea how much I loved them. I couldn’t touch them.

They were gone.

“It hurts…” Yasha’s arms came around me, and I pressed my face into his chest and clung to him. “It hurts… it hurts…” His arms pulled with gentle pressure while I squeezed out choked wails against his skin. Tears and snot were getting on his chest, but he just held me, petting my head. Hysteria drove a shivering numbness through all my blood, from the tip of my nose to the bottoms of my feet. An excruciating stitch stabbed at my side with every gulp of too-thin air I dragged through my quavering lips. I felt like a ragdoll whose limbs were coming undone at the joints. “Oh god… Ya… Yasha-kun… it hurts s-s-so… much…” He didn’t say a word – just stroked my head and let me go on crying, listening to the shrill words that leaked from me in gasps. “I… I m-miss them..”

Even as I said the words, burying my face harder into my husband’s chest, their ghostly image within my mind grew sharper and brighter. “I miss them… s-so much… I don’t – don’t feel… whole… anymore…” I took another deep, dragging breath, and I felt the grief sinking deeper into my heart, twisting like a knife. “They… they were my world… they were… _everything _to me… without them, I… I’m like a single page torn out of a book… and now I…. I’ll never see them again… I’ll never see them again… I…”

I broke off. I let out a cry of anguish, almost loud enough to be a scream… except that I didn’t have the breath to scream for real, even if I wanted to. It was just a keening moan.

“I’m so sorry…”

By degrees, my breathing slowed and evened out. I looked up at finally hearing Yasha speak. There were a few tears in his eyes as well, now, but the arms that held me still felt so strong and secure. I lowered my gaze and shook my head. “No… it’s not your fault…” My fingers balled up into fists, and I rested my forehead against his pecs. “I should have been there…”

A moment later, I returned to hysterics, clinging to my husband and wailing while my heart groaned in pain. “I should have been there! I should have died with them… Why am I the only one who… What’s wrong with me? I should have died with them!”

“No!” Yasha said firmly, squeezing me tighter and rubbing my arms. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. It’s not your fault.”

I sniffled, still shaking with sobs. “But…”

“You were running an errand for your father. You were serving your family. You did what a good son should have done. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

Even as his tight hug restricted my breathing, his words eased the tightness in my chest to let me breathe easier. I pressed my palms flat against his back and pushed my head even harder into his pecs. For a while, we were both silent. The memory of my father and sister blubbering like fools started to ease off, perhaps because of the way my current pose resembled them.

Then, in flashes, a whole host of other memories started to intrude: meals and baths and outings with my family, praises and reproaches from both my parents, quarrels and pranks and moments of solidarity with my siblings. I remembered in snippets, but they were no less clear for their brevity. I remembered all of it – the good times and the bad. They were all painful. All ended.

I felt my breath becoming erratic once more as the hysterical grief rekindled in my chest, enflamed by those memories. “Yasha-kun,” I whined, nuzzling aggressively into his chest. “Yasha-kun, please… Make it stop… Make the pain go away.”

“Hiro-chan?” I turned my face to look up at him. His expression looked more surprised than confused, I thought. I scooted closer till I was almost in his lap.

“Please… Kiss me… Hold me and kiss me until I’m too dizzy to move or think of painful things. Kiss me and make me forget…” A wash of gratitude and affection swept through my chest, like an undercurrent beneath my grief. I smiled. “Like you always do.”

My husband’s eyes went wide for a moment. Then his hands came up to caress my cheeks, and he planted a kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to melt at once. Yasha’s lips were so soft and familiar, and the warmth that spread through my mouth and down my neck was as real and comforting to me as the bed in which I slept every night. He only pulled back when my body began to go slack in his arms.

I started gasping for breath again. I’d been so constantly short of breath tonight, I didn’t even notice myself suffocating from the kiss. But at the same time, I felt lighter in both mind and body. My woes and fears weren’t just soothed, they were being _supplanted _by Yasha’s presence. My numb, shaky body felt realest at the points of contact between our skin.

Slowly, I pulled myself up further and worked myself into his lap, smiling at him. “Yasha-kun… my husband… You always take… such good care of me. You touch me so softly, kiss me so deeply… and no matter how burdensome I am, you carry me as if I weighed nothing. How can you be so pretty, and so kind, and so perfect?”

His eyes widened as I said this. His lips parted as if he would say something, but no words came. His eyes made minute flicking motions, but never left my face. Now it was _he _whose breath came erratically. I suppose he must have been pretty flustered. It was cute. I was the one who finally took the initiative, lacing my arms together about his shoulders, pulling myself up to him, and rejoining our lips.

I heard the susurrous hiss of Yasha drawing in a breath through his nose, welcoming the kiss I gave him. Then his arms wrapped around my back and waist, cradling me against him, and his tongue slid past my lips. A whimper leapt from my chest, but I clung to him still tighter and licked at his warm tongue. All that had earlier felt numb and chilly was now warm and steamy within my chest.

This kiss was slower and gentler than the first, allowing both of us to breath, but at the same time vastly more intimate. I felt… close to him. Closer than ever before. So close that our warm, beating hearts were nearly touching.

Without saying a word or breaking the kiss, Yasha intuited what I wanted then. He supported my rear with one hand, lifted me up, and carried me over to the futon. The kiss remained unbroken even as he lay me down and started to peel away my clothes. I started stripping his away as well. With our clothes gone, we felt even warmer, rubbing skin against skin. Even though we always bathed together, Yasha smelled different to me somehow. A rich, subtle, intoxicating aroma that enveloped me sweetly. My husband’s member was fully erect and pulsing, crushing down into my own hard cock and sliding against my abdomen. A trail of slick pre-ejaculate accumulated upon my sternum, but we just went on kissing and allowing our bodies to rub together sensuously. His hair felt cool and silky as it caressed my neck.

It could have gone on for ages and I would have been happy, but the need for release was building up in my dick. It made me whimper wantonly and squirm under my husband’s body. If this kept up, I would cum just from the weight of his dick upon mine. That would have felt nice… but I wanted to do more for him.

So, clenching my fists against his back, I opened my legs and allowed his hips to slide between my thighs. Yasha let out another breathy sigh, opening his eyes and pulling back to look at me. I looked him in the eye and nodded meaningfully. Yasha nodded back.

But the demon had a very different meaning in mind. He crawled down between my legs, held my thighs in place, and started lapping up all the pre that was leaking from the tip of my dick. I clamped my hands over my mouth as a squeak burst out. “N-no!” I gasped. “That’s not what I-” But he wasn’t listening now. His tongue swerved down the length of my prick and over my balls. I almost came on the spot.

Then, with me too distracted to say anything or stop him, Yasha managed to fit my entire prick and nutsack into his mouth at once and stick his tongue down far enough to lap at my hole. I came instantly. I screamed and tried to squirm back, but his hands held my thighs in place, so instead I reached down and took hold of his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. He just kept determinedly licking my anus and gulping down each spurt of my cum.

After my orgasm tailed off, Yasha let my genitals fall from his mouth and gave the tip of my penis one last kiss to make sure he’d gotten everything. “Enjoy it, darling?” he asked.

Once I had caught enough breath to speak, I nodded and said, “Yes, but… I was…” I blushed, and despite having just climaxed, I felt a renewed stirring in my loins at the thought that passed through my head. Though almost guiltily shy, I reached down to spread my thighs wider with my hands and lifted my hips up in offering to my husband. “I really… really want to feel you inside of me… Yasha-kun…”

I adored the sight of the lustful blaze that suddenly sprang up in his eyes. “You do?” He scooted up closer, and I watched as his hard member pushed up between my legs and felt the hot, slick head prod at my entrance.

Now I was completely hard again, and my heart pounded with love and excitement. “Yes, Yasha-kun! I can’t possibly feel lonely with my husband’s warm cock inside of me. Please…” Holding onto his shoulders, I pulled myself up to whisper in his ear. “Stuff me with your flesh so I can show you my gratitude.” Then I bit gently at his ear as he’d done so many times to me, then leaned back down to see his reaction.

His breath caught and his pupils dilated. Then he began to slide inside, and I could feel his pulse through his flesh as it entered me. After three days without having sex, and four since I was last penetrated, it hurt. It wasn’t terrible, and Yasha was pushing at a steady pace, but he was only halfway inside when I yelped with pain and bit the back of a knuckle to brace myself.

“Hiro-chan!” Yasha halted mid-push. “Are you alright?” His hips started to retreat.

“Don’t!” I barked, catching his forearm and meeting his anxious expression. “Please… keep going. I _need _it!”

Yasha’s face flushed, but he nodded and started to push back inside, more slowly this time but without stopping. I grit my teeth, squeezing his wrist and enduring the pain. However much it hurt, the pressure of his cock filling up my body until my belly was wrapped around it was so familiar and stabilizing; it was worth enduring the pain. Once hilted inside me, he stopped to let me rest for a moment. I saw him repress a shiver as he bent over me and gave me a kiss on the lips, stroking my cheek.

“You feel… so tight now,” Yasha breathed, holding his hips still with difficulty.

I smiled back at him, took one of his hands, and guided it over to my abdomen to press his palm against the bulge made by his cock. “I’ve missed this, Yasha-kun.” A grin lifted the corners of his lips, and we kissed again as he began to move.

He started slowly, just shifting his hips this way and that so that I felt his dick stirring up my insides, stretching my hole to make more room for him. Then he drew back just a couple inches and pushed back in with a quick little shove. Such a minute movement, and yet I felt electrified. I gasped and clenched around his member reflexively. Then I spread my legs wider for him to do it again. This time, Yasha pulled back an inch further than on the previous thrust, and it felt amazing. It wasn’t just the pressure, the heat in my belly, nor the sparking, gliding friction that ran from my anus to my navel. It was that this was my husband’s dick. My strong, kind, muscular, witty husband’s dick was _inside my body_, and I was making him feel good. My warm, living body would be used to show him my gratitude.

Gradually, he began to speed up, his hips pulling back further and further each time. It started to hurt again for a moment, but then Yasha locked his lips with mine, filled my mouth with his tongue, and allowed me to suckle on it until the pain was replaced with heat and pleasure. My cock twitched and bounced every time he hit home. It was perfect.

I lifted my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, then clung to his shoulders for dear life as he went even faster. Our tongues danced about each other, and my moans formed and accompaniment to the percussive sound of his hips slapping mine. The kiss was broken only when Yasha felt the damp of hot tears from my eyes press against his cheek. His thrusts slowed, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. When he pulled back, I could see in his eyes that he knew I wasn’t in pain anymore. “Hiro-chan,” he whispered with awe in his voice.

“Yasha-kun,” I answered, smiling blissfully as tears rolled down to my ears. “Thank you, Yasha-kun. Thank you for being here… for taking care of me… for thinking I’m beautiful. I love you, Yasha-kun.”

We stared into each other’s eyes. Yasha’s hips were now rolling in a smooth, constant glide. Without signaling, we both moved at the same time to hold each other’s hands – my left and his right, interlacing our fingers. Then Yasha picked up speed again, and we pressed together chest-to-chest as we kissed. Our lips were still brushing together with intimate, tongue-filled kisses when, a few minutes later, we came at exactly the same time. We squeezed one another’s hands hard enough to hurt, but I could feel no pain in that moment.

I felt only the rapture of being united, heart and flesh, with my beloved husband. I went to bed that night with my back snuggled against his chest, his arms and legs wrapped around me like a pillow.

“I love you, Hiro-chan,” Yasha whispered into my ear.

I smiled, glowing with warmth, squeezing the hand which I still held. “And I love you, Yasha-kun.”

My hangover was not nearly as bad as I should have expected upon waking. Oh, to be sure, it _was _very painful, but it seemed strangely localized to my forehead. My stomach also didn’t feel as nasty as I’d have expected. Indeed, my chief concern at the moment was why I was so cold, and the place where I lay felt so hard.

With a grunt of discomfort, I reached out a hand to search for the rest of the blankets… but found none. And the thing covering me wasn’t a blanket, but rather a kimono. I raised a hand to touch my aching head as I pushed myself onto one elbow and found my head surprisingly sore to the touch – more like a bruise than a hangover.

“Finally awake?” came Yasha’s voice from surprisingly far away. I opened my eyes and looked in the direction of his voice. Yasha was sitting on the floor with his back against the chest of drawers, wearing nothing but a fundoshi despite the morning chill. He sat with one leg stretched out in front of him and the other with knee raised, resting his elbow upon it. He wasn’t even looking at me, but appeared to be staring glumly out into space.

“Y… Yasha…” I said, trying and failing to rest myself in a comfortable position. When I looked down, I saw why. “Yasha… kun… Where’s the futon? And the blankets?” I was lying on a towel, and I had only Yasha’s kimono for covering.

At my question, Yasha didn’t budge an inch, but his eyes flashed me a dirty glare. “Do you not remember? You _really _don’t remember what happened last night?”

I thought back… and immediately felt my stomach drop. My mouth felt parched. “I… I remember… we had sex after drinking… then went to sleep,” I related, leaving out as much detail as possible.

Yasha produced a weary sigh, rubbing the heel of his hand against one eye. “So you don’t remember, then.” After a moment, he put his hand back down and stared off into space while he spoke. “Last night, you started thrashing around and screaming in your sleep.” His tone was dull and bitter. “You just kept screaming, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ over and over again, and you tried to brain yourself against the floor. You managed to hit your head pretty good before I restrained you.” Gingerly, I touched the bruise again. So _that’s _where that came from.

“I held onto you and called your name and assured you it was just a bad dream,” Yasha continued. “Eventually you settled back down and let me pull you back to bed… but then without a word of warning, you threw up all over the futon.” He clenched his fist, a note of disgust now creeping into his voice. “The futon, the pillows, the blankets… you managed to soil everything in one heave. I carried you straight to the edge of the floor just in time for the second and let you finish the rest of your vomiting out into the void, but it was already a little late by that point. I had to dispose of all our bedding while you puked everything out of your system. For eight solid minutes!

“After the first three minutes, there was nothing but dry heaves and wads of spit, so I had to close your stomach with acupuncture, but you just kept on heaving and retching for another five minutes. After that, I opened your stomach again and thankfully nothing else came up, but I had to keep you awake for the next hour to clean you up and make you drink water. And it was miserable because you didn’t want to cooperate with anything I told you to do, and you wouldn’t look me in the eye, and I couldn’t get you to say anything except ‘I’m sorry,’ even as you continued to be difficult.”

By the end, he was constantly rubbing his face with frustration, but he still wasn’t looking at me. After a pause, he clicked his tongue and stared out into the void. “God damn it… and we’d been having such a good night up till then. That’s the last time I ever let you drink sake.”

Though I might have been perfectly justified in resenting Yasha for this last, rather undeserved word of naked spite, at that moment I would be grateful if I never touched sake again in my life. I couldn’t remember a bit of the event Yasha described… but I remembered everything leading up to it. I remembered drinking with him. I remembered laughing and reveling with him. I remembered crying in his arms and clinging to him while I poured out my grief. But worst of all, I remembered that when Yasha said, “I’m sorry,” I had replied, “It’s not your fault” … as if I’d forgotten. And then we… made love to each other. I had truly given myself to him, and I’d even said that I loved him and… at least in that drunken state, I’d meant it. I absolved him and gave myself up to him.

I betrayed everybody.

For the first time since drinking the Elixir of Life, I was glad it would take me so long to die. Even if I were to cross over before they were reincarnated, they wouldn’t wish to see me. How could I even show my face before them?

Without a word, I turned away from Yasha, lay back down, and rolled over. There was a gourd of water sitting beside me, but I closed my eyes and ignored it. I ignored my parched throat.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t wail or panic or curse. I suppose I had cried myself dry last night. And I suppose that by now, I was… too used to disgracing myself and being disgraced. Truthfully, I wasn’t even surprised that I’d sunk this low. I was just… tired.

That’s when, groggy, aching, cold, I resigned myself to my life as Yasha’s prisoner. I abandoned all hope of escape.

I gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everybody! I hope you weren't kept waiting for too long. 
> 
> If you felt at all unsettled during that particular sex scene, then don't worry. You're having the correct reaction. 
> 
> I know I said I was GOING to do both the prologue and interludes before posting this, but... honestly, the prologue was so much work x.x I mean, it was definitely fun and worth the time spent, and I'm glad I did it, but it just ate up so much time that I WANTED to spend working on the main story. 
> 
> So I think I'll wait until Chapter 4 has been posted and Chapter 5 is drafted before going back and doing those. You won't NEED to read any of them to understand the conclusion anyway. 
> 
> Luckily, chapter 2 is already drafted, and I'll be starting on Chapter 3 today! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sato no Hiroshi… I just want to know… Do you love me?"

After that, my mental state truly went all to hell.

I attempted to meditate out of habit for a day or two, but my head wouldn’t be roped into line. I couldn’t even dredge up the necessary energy. Eventually, I gave up trying. I know Yasha found new bedding within a day, but I couldn’t tell you anything about it now. Whenever I tried to read, I suffered from a tendency to blank on what I was reading every few minutes. My eyes would stop, I’d realize that I hadn’t absorbed a single sentence on the page, and I’d have to backtrack to where my mind first began to wander. Eventually, I all but gave up trying to read, except when Yasha was encouraging me.

Do you recall your earliest memories as a child? Your very first memories of all? At least in my case… some memories were clearer than others. Sights, sounds, shapes, smells, and colors one can remember well, but it’s difficult to recall specific words to mind. You might be able to remember what you were saying at the time, and perhaps even what you felt, but your thoughts? Probably not so well. At best, they were just a few vague associations; “this looks like that.” Any sophisticated thoughts you might have had, they were just too small and delicate to remain pristine as an adult. So all you remember in retrospect is passing through places, events, and people as little more than a ball of emotions and perceptions.

Before long, I devolved to a similar state. I remember things that happened during the day, things that happened at night, and nothing else to give them sense or chronology. It was just… a blur of meals, baths, and touches of paper and skin without context. I think entire weeks must have gone by in which I never had a coherent or memorable thought.

Still… There are some thematic elements that my mind has held onto. I remember that my lapses of focus were constant by then. If left unattended, I would forget to eat entirely. Consequently, Yasha’s daily excursions became shorter and shorter, and he skipped them more and more often. As far as I can remember, he never pestered me to smile for him anymore.

I remember Yasha talking to me often, and logically I suppose I must have conversed _somewhat_, but I couldn’t tell you a thing I said. It seems like he stopped worrying about my hair and makeup at some point, but it’s hard to say. I just remember that at that time, if I sat still for very long (as I often did), it seemed as though I could stare at the hair trailing over my shoulder and actually _see _it getting longer before my eyes.

More striking, though, was what happened to Yasha’s hair. I remember because it was one of the only things in the realm that changed in all that time. As the months wore on, it lost its silky luster, became rough and brittle, and turned from rich lilac to a dull, rusty red color. Some days, I think he even forgot to put on makeup. I noticed, but… thought nothing of it.

His behavior also underwent a few changes. I remember him going through two… ‘modes,’ as it were. Two attitudes. Almost as if there were two Yasha’s. I can’t remember, though, if he switched between them daily, or if they were completely separate phases.

The first was cruel, surly, and temperamental. He would come home from an expedition, hardly speak to me until it was time to eat, and then snap at me when I wasn’t eating enough. He was reluctant to touch me at all in the bath, and during sex, he just did whatever he wanted to me without a word. He didn’t try to ease the pain in the slightest. When we went to bed, he slumped onto his side of the futon without a word, facing away from me. Once when he was in such a mood, I was trying to cook… something simple, and I accidentally scalded my hand in the steam. Yasha promptly slapped me, called me an idiot, and forbade me ever from cooking again.

The other Yasha was the complete opposite. He came home as soon as he could, when he even bothered to leave at all, and he always returned with a cheery smile. He did all of the chores himself, and he never criticized me for losing focus in the middle of a conversation. At meals, he had me sit in his lap, leaning back against his chest, and fed me from the same bowl he was using. In this way, he ensured that I didn’t go hungry. He asked obsessively after my health, and he used every bath to massage my back, shoulders, and limbs. At any given time, he was prone to baste my face and neck with kisses and caresses. During sex…

Twice, I made the mistake of meeting his eyes when he was in this state. Twice was enough. I never met those deep, sorrowful eyes again – never looked upon his pain that reached down to the seabed. But even so, I felt his dozens of caresses and endured the hundreds of kisses he laid upon my cheeks and neck, and I shut my eyes fearfully whenever he pulled in close to kiss my lips.

During such nights, whenever he wasn’t kissing me, he would call to me like a mantra, “Hiro-chan… Hiro-chan… Hiro-chan…” His palms rubbed bit by bit over every inch of my body, but one hand always made its way sooner or later to mine. He interlaced our fingers, letting go only when he wanted to switch positions, then taking my hand again as soon as he could. His fingers squeezed painfully tight when he came, pressing his skin to mine while his breath gasped a desperate, pleading, “Hiro-chan!” against my neck. I noticed, even in my eroded and broken state, that he sounded… lost… as one calling out to somebody who couldn’t hear them. Afterwards, he always slept with his arms around me and his lips pressed to the back of my head. 

Then one day, Yasha broke through my stagnating thoughts for the last time. He’d made no excursion that day, but he wasn’t as lighthearted as he usually was on his days off. He would only say a few words at a time, then go quiet when I failed to reply (it wasn’t that I was ignoring him, I just never knew what to say to most of it.)

Then…

“Hiro-chan?”

“Hm…” I acknowledged him without looking up.

“Are you listening?” he asked softly.

“Mhm.”

“Do you hear me?” He was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry.

“Mhm.”

“Can you please look at me?”

I swiveled my head up to look at him. I could tell that I must have been getting even more numb of late, because although his eyes were full of the desperate pain that had made me stop looking at him during sex, I felt no need to recoil. I could no more read his expression than if he were an animal. I just… stared.

He spent a long moment looking me in the eyes. “There’s… there’s something I need to ask you, Hiro-chan. It’s something I’ve asked you before, but…” His eyes dropped from mine for a moment. “I know you haven’t always… felt safe telling me truthfully… but I need the truth now…” He met my eyes again. “Sato no Hiroshi, I need to know the truth!”

Something that had long lain dormant stirred inside my head. I suppose it must have been his use of my full name that caught my attention. He could almost certainly see the light returning to me.

“Sato no Hiroshi… I just want to know…” Every muscle in his body was all knotted up. He could barely speak. “Do you… Do you love me?” My mind continued to stir sluggishly, as though I’d just woken up. My mouth moved to form the automatic response, but Yasha must have anticipated what I was about to say. “Please, don’t… don’t just say what you think I want to hear. I want to know what you feel in your heart, Sato no Hiroshi. Does Sato no Hiroshi love me?”

I stared at him while his words echoed in my head. I noticed that he hadn’t used ‘sama’ when referring to himself even once, and that _really _stimulated my stagnant mind. I could feel… _something _forming in the center of my brain. As I watched, it was like color that had been bleached out of the world started to bleed back in. I actually _saw _what was in front of me, which was something I hadn’t done in so long I forgot what it was like. I whispered, “Do I… love… you…” The words agitated my thoughts like sweeping one’s arm through a tub of water. “Do I… love you…”

Suddenly, I understood what the words meant. “Do… I love you?...” I understood what the question was, but… Was Yasha truly the one who just tasked that? “Do I love you?” I could hardly believe the gall. Did he _really_ just… “Do I _love _you?!” I realized that I was repeating myself and resolved to clamp my mouth shut until I had decided what to say. I stared directly into the demon’s eyes. His knees were both up in front of him, hands gripping his ankles, lips a narrow line. Neither of us dared to look away from each other, even for a moment.

“You…” I started to draw myself up, drawing a weighty cloud of breath into my lungs. “You… You burned my village to the ground… along with the villagers…” My jaws felt stiff and my tongue rusty from disuse. I had to speak slowly and annunciate very carefully to be sure I wouldn’t fumble the words. “You admitted… no, you _boasted _this to me when we first met. Then you _raped _me not 50 steps from the place where my family died. You forced me to marry you, and you tricked me into playing some… ludicrous game with you in which I had no real chance, just so you could humiliate me and claim your forced matrimony was legitimate… Then you kidnapped me and dragged me away to the Underworld. When I tried to run away, you beat me and raped me into unconsciousness!” Though carefully pronouncing each word, the passion brought on by years of abuse had finally been let loose. My words were carried on the crest of a tsunami that was gathering speed and height by the moment.

“Since then, you’ve kept me prisoner without sunlight, company, or freedom. You’ve inflicted countless degradations on me, punished me again and again for standing up to you, and even deliberately insulted my family, _who are dead_! And now… you have the gall to ask me if I _love you_?”

Yasha watched and listened without interrupting. By now, tears were dripping from both our eyes. The pain I’d been seeing in him had found an even deeper level. Yet… it didn’t disturb me anymore. On the contrary: seeing my tormentor experience an anguish that pierced to his very deepest heart, my spirit was galvanized. I was glad. But it was an empty, destructive, gladness that spurred me on. To hurt him. To watch him suffer. To make him _pay_. “You wretched bastard!” I snarled. “I have _never _loved you. What makes you think I could ever, _ever _do so after everything you’ve done?”

Yasha’s shoulders were hunched up, lips nearly pressed into his knees as he spoke. “I… I know I’ve done a lot of wrong by you… I knew, even when I first met you, that I’d hurt you… but I hoped that…” He broke off, sniffling and shuddering, then spoke in a voice choked by restrained sobs. “I hoped that… if I just took good care of you, furnished your home, gave you gifts, … and if I…” he stopped again and broke eye contact to rub a palm across his eyes, “if I… gave you good sex… you would see that I loved you, and you would fall in love with me too…”

His answer was another layer of dirt to bury my pity. “You thought I would fall in love with you… over a few books, basic living necessities, and relentless sex that I _didn’t want_?” I saw him wrap himself up a little tighter in his knot of limbs. “Even aside from all of that… You say that you love me; could _you _ever fall in love with someone who killed me?”

Yasha had been staring at a point somewhere on the floor between us. As I watched, his eyes opened as wide as they could. A fresh trickle of tears gushed down his cheeks. “I didn’t know…” he whispered weakly into his knees after about a minute. “I’d never had anyone love me before or loved anybody else… I’ve never had…” Again, he made that motion of scraping his palm over his face. With his tear-stained face so ghastly pale, and his red hair in such brittle disarray, he looked truly wretched. “And…” He sniffled again. “I… I certainly never knew I would ever fall in love with somebody from that village. I wish I could take it all back… I’m sorry.”

For some reason, his apology only made me even angrier. “You’re _sorry_?” I mocked. “You’re _sorry _that you destroyed my life and everyone I cared about? My best friends, my family… my little sister…” My whole body was shaking. I felt hot, angry sweat soaking into my clothes. I gritted my teeth and flashed Yasha a look that made him visibly recoil. He was curled up in a shaking ball like a frightened child, but now I was in too much pain to enjoy seeing him like this. I just kept spitting venom. “I hate you, you fucking villain! You’re a bastard, and a murderer, and a rapist, and that’s all you’ll ever be to me! I will never love you, and I will _never _forgive you!”

He didn’t try to hide from my gaze as I glared hateful needles into his body, but his hands were clamped over his mouth to try and stifle the sobbing hiccoughs pumping up from his throat. For a long while, we remained thus. My breathing wouldn’t steady, and I could feel my pulse beating hotly through every muscle.

Finally, Yasha seemed to pull himself together somewhat and spoke with eyes downcast. “I understand… that…” he said haltingly, “what I’ve done to you is horrid and unforgivable… You have every right to hate me after all that I’ve done. I… deserve to remain loveless and miserable.” Suddenly, he met my eyes. “But you don’t.”

He rolled forward to rest on his knees, palms braced against the floor. “Hiro-chan, you are a good, kind, insightful person with a beautiful soul, and you _deserve _happiness. That’s what…” A fit of coughing interrupted him, and he had to stop a moment to clear his throat and wipe his eyes before continuing. “That’s what… has been the most painful in all this. Seeing you fall to pieces… and knowing that it’s all my fault. I hate myself for doing this to you, and… I just want to make things better…” He crawled forward a step as though he would grab the hem of my robe and sob into it, but he stopped himself quickly. “Please… I just want you to be happy… I want for you to laugh, and smile, and know the joy that you deserve to have. I would give up ever being happy again to bring you that joy.” He stretched his body forward, nearly prostrating himself before me. “Please… I will do anything… _anything _to make you happy.”

My reply came so promptly, his lips had barely stopped moving as mine began. “Bring my family back,” I commanded, harsh and imperious.

Yasha looked up at me pathetically, quaking from head to toe. In a voice that was barely audible, he groaned, “I can’t.”

I sprang forward, landing on my hands while my knees remained planted and roared, “THEN DIE!”

Yasha recoiled, but I hung my head, gasping. All my air had been expended in that single shout, and my arms were shaking. Tears feel onto the backs of my fingers. “Die,” I said, still staring at the floor and trying to catch my breath. “Die… and leave me here to starve…” I pulled my head up to stare through tears at the blurry, huddled figure before me, “… so that I can die too.”

I allowed my head to drop again, wrestling to breathe through my sobs. In front of me, I heard Yasha sobbing as well. In a broken, husky voice, he groaned, “Hiro-chan…”

Instantly I had the breath that I needed, and I raised my head to bellow at him with full force. “_Shut up!_” He fell back on his haunches as though knocked over by the shout. “Don’t call me that! I’m not your ‘Hiro-chan!’ Don’t ever call me by that name! Don’t speak to me again! Don’t ever touch me again! I HATE YOU!” At the utterance of those words, I felt ignited – set aflame by limitless rage. I just kept screaming.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, YASHA! I WILL ALWAYS HATE YOU, YASHA! TEN THOUSAND TIMES, I HATE YOU YASHA! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” I started to slam my fists against the floor with each repetition. Yasha seemed to shrink and shrivel as he cringed before me, pinned in place by my glare.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” The screams tore at the inside of my throat. My voice was dropping in pitch, becoming a low, monstrous, inhuman. But I didn’t care. I would keep screaming until my throat was ripped to shreds and blood started to spray between my teeth with every word.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HA-”

A blur. For the merest fraction of an instant, I saw Yasha’s palm moving toward my face and covering up my vision. Then everything went dark, and I knew no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a short one... Chapter 3 is going to be a bit long, but the drafting is almost finished.
> 
> To be honest, I'm really afraid this chapter might alienate some readers, but like... you know... it's kind of... necessary, I feel? 
> 
> Anyway. To get occasional updates, chat, or just share memes and cute animal videos, please follow me on my twitter. Hope to see you all next time! https://twitter.com/IsuSeal


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His Lordship also entrusted a letter to me and ordered me to give it to you after ensuring that you were sound and comfortable."

I awoke, but did not open my eyes. Sleep was too comfortable. I wanted to go back. In wakefulness, I felt thirsty, hungry, achy in the joints, sticky with sweat, and suffocatingly hot. Waking up would mean finding a solution to all of these problems. That was too much trouble. No, far easier to just go back to sleep and let unconsciousness obliviate my discomfort. Alas, it was no use. My body had had all the sleep it could take, and the stuffiness was getting to be intolerable. I opened my eyes.

Wooden planks.

My mind went totally blank but for that thought. I stared. Wooden planks. Overhead. A ceiling made of wooden planks. My eyes roved over it. At the edges, the ceiling gave way to walls – also wooden planks. In the wall nearest me, there was a small aperture with a lattice-work window set into it. This let in some faint light and the barest airflow… and the sound of waves and smell of salt.

_Where am I? _

I clenched my eyes shut, then opened them again. Nothing had changed. It was too strange. I couldn’t come to grips with what I was seeing. There were a whole host of scents and sounds banging themselves against my senses, but my weary brain was having to decipher them one at a time.

Then one sound from very close by jumped to the front of the queue: a pair of light footsteps – wooden sandals on wooden floors – were approaching. There was an odd scratching at the wall, and then a door that I hadn’t recognized as a door till then suddenly slid open. Behind it, a man knelt on the floor. Next to him there was a tray with a bowl and a pile of cloth upon it. He lifted this tray and was just about to slide into the room when our eyes met. There was no recognition from either of us.

For a few seconds, we stared unmoving at each other. Then, he said something too quiet for me to hear, bowed so low that I couldn’t read his lips, and then – forgetting to lay the tray aside first, he grabbed the door without lifting his eyes and slammed it violently shut. I heard the tray and bowl clatter to the floor outside a moment later, and then he shouted at full volume: “TAICHOOOOU! OK’TAAAAA!”

I started in my bed. Now I _knew _that I was awake. This wasn’t the sort of thing my sleeping mind would come up with. But what was that the man shouted? It was a long time since I’d heard another human speak, and the man had an unusual accent. It was definitely Japanese, though. I mouthed the words silently.

‘Captain… they’re awake…’ Did he mean me? Well, obviously. He’d just seen me, and I had presumably been asleep for some time.

Captain… So between that, the smell of salt, and the all-wood interior (which I only then noticed was rocking slightly at an easy tempo), I could guess that I was on some sort of boat. But where? Whose boat? How did I get here? Where was Yasha?

That final question sent a shiver through me. I started to recall the fight we’d just had…

Except… It hadn’t _really _been much of a fight. It was just me railing at Yasha and him cowering back while I screamed myself hoarse. That was something unprecedented. How had it all ended again? I remembered screaming at him… I recalled that I had been half-mad, screaming, “I hate you,” over and over again, and then… nothing. Blank until I woke up just a minute ago. So…

For a few minutes, I just lay back and tried to process everything. This captain that man had called to… would he know anything about this? He must know _something_.

Deciding to take the initiative, I sat up and slid my legs over the side of the bed. As I pulled aside the thick sailor’s blanket that looked and felt made of equal parts wool and straw, I found that I was wearing a perfectly white yukata that I’d never seen before. It was made of soft, high-quality fabric, and despite the heat of the cabin, my sweat didn’t appear to have stained it. Where had it come from? Another mystery…

Just as I was about to stand up and go looking for somebody, I heard a scuffling of many feet outside the door and the murmur of several men talking. A sharp, hissed order sent the voices away. Then a knock came upon the door, and a man’s voice called out, “I’m coming in!”

Strange as this must seem, the words startled me. Not the voice, not the knock, but the words themselves. I’m not sure why. They’re perfectly ordinary words, expressing a platitude that I’d heard literally thousands of times in my life. My best guess is that, having not heard that phrase uttered once in all the time I spent in the realm, they had become a sort of… intrusion into my accustomed reality. They drove home, even more than the white yukata or the tiny room formed all from wooden planks, the fact that I was once more in civilized territory.

The door slid open, and the man kneeling outside bowed low on his knuckles, slid over the threshold, pulled a tray inside, slid the door shut, and bowed to me once more with a strong but gentle, “Ohayogozaimasu.”

It was all so familiar, and yet my instincts felt so rusty. Without getting to my feet, nor to my knees, I bowed from where I sat on the bed. “Good morning.” My throat felt a little scratchy as I voiced the greeting. That made sense; the last thing I remembered before waking up here was screaming at Yasha. In fact, this pain felt comparatively mild, considering the ruthless way I’d been abusing my voice.

The man, this ship’s captain judging by the sash about his waist, moved a table that my mind hadn’t registered earlier into the middle of the room. Onto this, he set the tray which bore an iron teapot, a bowl of white rice and another of soup, along with a pair of chopsticks and two simple tea cups. The captain offered a wide, ingratiating smile without fully meeting my eyes. “I hope you slept well. Do you feel well?” His accent was a little strange, but he used a very polite Kyoto dialect that made him seem educated and respectable.

“I am… feeling well,” I said haltingly. My tongue and my mind both had become so unaccustomed to formal speech after all this time.

There was a pause during which the captain seemed to be waiting for something, but I was sure I’d given the full response… Then he gestured to the table with an open hand. “I’m sure you must be hungry. Please, this is for you.”

I felt a flush of embarrassment, feeling foolish for having to be told. To make up for it, I sat quickly down in front of the table, collecting myself on my knees. I slid the tray toward me, pulled forward the bowl, picked up my chopsticks… then belatedly remembered my manners. “Thank you… I’ll enjoy this meal,” I said with a slight bow, forgetting to lay my chopsticks back down before I clapped my hands together and prodded myself in the fingers.

I took a bite of the rice first. It was noticeably inferior to the rice that Yasha always brought home, but I loved it even more for that. This was real, humans’ rice. I took another bite in deep gratitude, then set the rice down and pulled the soup toward me instead.

The captain was watching me while I ate, but at the time I didn’t find this remarkable. I was so used to being under observation. “I’m sorry that we don’t have anything better for you at this time,” he said, picking up the teapot and filling both cups in turn.

I was just ladling my first mouthful of crab soup as he said this. “No, it’s wonderful!” I said, covering my mouth even though I’d just swallowed.

“But… truly,” he insisted, smiling sheepishly and averting his eyes. “I’m sure this must seem like meagre fare compared to what you’re probably used to.”

_How would he know something like that_? I smiled, throat soothed by the warm crab and miso, declared, “This may be the best meal I’ve had in years. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

At this, the captain beamed, blushing rather charmingly and scratching the back of his head. “Oh… wow… That’s so kind of you to say, Princess Hiroko.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I halted with spoon raised halfway to my mouth. “What did you just call me?” I asked, unintentionally switching back to the casual form in my surprise.

The captain went stock still. The blush fled out of his face and left him ghostly pale. Then with sudden, jerky movements, the captain thrust himself away from the table and kowtowed to me. His forehead hit the floor with a rather worrying crack. “I humbly beg your pardon!” he cried at full volume into the wooden planks. I started violently, dropping the spoonful of soup onto the table. 

The captain went on ranting, bowing repeatedly and thumping his head distressingly against the floor. “Please pardon your lowly servant! How presumptuous of me, to use your Grace’s first name in addressing you that way! I ask only that you have pity on my life!” I tried to get his attention and motion him to stop before he concussed himself, but such was the weight of the man’s contrition that he refused to open his eyes. “I beg of your Worship – I have a wife and three girls who depend on me! If I die, they’ll be all alone in the world! I pray, be content merely to cut off my littlest finger and cast it into the sea for my insolence-” here he held out the indicated finger in supplication, “and spare me my life and that of my crew! I implore your Grace, have pity on-”

“_I’m not angry!_” I roared furiously.

The captain lifted his head from where he still knelt on the floor. A big, red circle was raised on his forehead, and his cheeks were wet with tears. “T… truly, your Grace?” he blubbered.

“Really!” I assured him, forcing a beleaguered smile onto my face. “I was just surprised more than anything. My name isn’t Hiroko. It’s Hiroshi. Sato no Hiroshi.”

“Oh,” he mused. “Hiro… shi…” His eyes widened and he exclaimed, “Wait… Hiroshi? You’re a man?” Then that look of wild panic returned to his countenance, and he smacked his forehead to the floor and made me jump again. “I mean, you _are _a man, your Grace! It’s clear – how stupid of me not to have-”

“No, no, no it’s fine!” I hastily interjected before he could start kowtowing too severely again. I pulled a lock of my hair in front of me and started twirling it in my fingers while giving him a gracious smile. “I mean, with how long my hair has gotten, I must no doubt look like a woman in certain lightings.”

“Ah… yes,” said the captain, seeming mollified but still showing signs of reservation. “You do have a point there, your Grace.”

I winced a little. “Please… There’s no need to call me ‘your Grace,’ I’m not nobility.”

“You aren’t?” This seemed to surprise the captain even more than learning I was a man. “That’s… actually rather amazing. When you were brought aboard, the first thing I thought on seeing your face was, ‘That must be a princess.’ Uh… that is, a prince, I mean! Of course!”

“When I was brought aboard?” I interrupted.

“Uh… yes… Sato-sama.”

“Who brought me aboard?” My heart was racing, preemptively disbelieving the only answer that sprang to mind.

“Why… His Lordship, Yasha-sama,” answered the captain.

My heart reverberated hollowly in my chest. “Yasha… The demon Yasha brought me aboard.”

The captain started to fidget nervously, but his eyes acquired a contemplative glaze as he recalled the event. “Yes, sir. Last night.”

I tried to say something to this, but after working my jaw noiselessly for a few seconds, all I could manage was, “Why?”

Understandably, the captain was pretty flustered by the question. “Why? Well, I… don’t rightfully know, sir. I only know what I was told. You see, sir, this is how it happened:” His countenance relaxed a little as he switched into a more narrative mode.

“Last night, a waterspout leapt up out of nowhere and upended itself onto the deck of the ship. As it faded, there was His Lordship Yasha-sama standing there, with you curled up asleep in his arm and a trunk dangling from his other hand. His Lordship has boarded us on several occasions to demand a share of our cargo – a sort of levy, as it were, for using his waters, this being the fastest trade route and His Lordship never carrying off more than would fit in his arms or a little sack he often carries. Anyway. On this occasion, he looked deathly grave about something, and he’d come not to take a share of our goods, but rather to deposit you with us.

“His Lordship never identified you except as ‘that one’ and ‘this one,’ and I didn’t think it wise to pry. He had us find you a private room to sleep in, even if it meant clearing out a storage locker. Fortunately my quartermaster was willing to volunteer his own cabin. His Lordship then instructed us that we were to let you rest and not touch you until you were awake, that we were to give you the utmost respect and kindness, that we were not to take anything from – nor even peek inside – the trunk he left for you, and that upon your waking, we were to follow every order you gave us and take you wherever you wished to go after reading his letter.”

“His letter? What letter?” I asked, jolted out of my stunned trance.

“Oh, yes!” The captain exclaimed, smacking his still-reddening forehead. “How stupid of me to forget. His Lordship also entrusted a letter to me and ordered me to give it to you after ensuring that you were sound and comfortable.” So saying, he reached inside his kimono, withdrew a thick packet of folded paper tied up with a string, and presented it to me in both hands with head bowed. “I-incidentally, Sato-sama… you may see from this how I formed my mistake regarding your name.”

I looked at the letter being offered to me. It was addressed with a set of characters in a thin, self-styled script that I had once seen a long, long time ago. It read: ヒロちゃん

_Hiro-chan._

“That bastard,” I muttered. The captain said nothing, but I saw his shoulders tense up. So I accepted the letter in both hands with a word of thanks. I couldn’t bring myself to open it right away. Truth be told… I still couldn’t believe that any of this was really happening. When I was in his captivity, I’d never held out any hope of escaping from Yasha. At best, I hoped to see him dead before meeting my own end. To find myself suddenly, not only free, but _set _free… It was too good to be true. It just didn’t seem remotely probable. Not after… after…

“What year is it?” I asked, moving the letter to the back of my mind.

The captain looked up. “Pardon?”

“The date,” I said more urgently. “What year is it?”

The captain told me. I asked him to repeat it. He repeated it. I asked him to repeat it once more, and he did so. I couldn’t make sense of the answer. My eyes roved about, then settled on the drop of soup I’d spilled before. Picking up one of my chopsticks, I handed it to the captain and instructed him to write the date in the spilled soup. He did, and I read the characters he’d written aloud. Despite the stuffiness of the room, cold ran down my shoulders. It was now six years since I’d come home to find my village a ruined pile of ashes. I was now 25 years old. In just 4 more months, I would be turning 26.

“Six years…” I muttered.

“Huh? Six years?” asked the captain.

I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “I was… taken… by Yasha… six years ago.” The words had an unreal ring in my ears. It seemed impossible. True that I had long since lost track of time in the Underworld, but I had thought that realistically speaking, I must be coming up on three years at most. I didn’t have nearly enough memory to account for a span of time more than twice that long. And for all that…

“Six years ago…” the captain mused. Then his face became suddenly animated, and he straightened up fast enough to startle me. “Wait a minute! You were ‘taken away’ six years ago?”

“Y-yes,” I replied.

“And you said your name was Sato no Hiroshi. You wouldn’t happen to have been from Umi no Mura, would you?”

That was a shock. “How could you know that? Who are you?”

The captain was instantly elated. “My name is Kimura no Shinnosuke. I know who you are because six years ago, when it was discovered that Umi no Mura had been razed to the ground, Boss Shiragawa recalled that you had been on your way home around the time the fire was thought to have taken place.”

My heart leapt with unexpected excitement, and I set the letter aside on the floor. “You know Shiragawa-san?”

“He’s my employer!” Kimura beamed. “He ordered all of his shippers, any time they were passing through that area, to slow down, send up smoke signals and, if possible, to make ground and look for you. It went on for a full year before we gave up, but I know Boss Shiragawa has been praying for your safety ever since.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. My father and Shiragawa-san had been good friends as well as business partners, I knew, but I never imagined he would go to all of this trouble for my sake. We’d only ever seen each other twice in person, after all. Still… if he _had _gone to the trouble, perhaps he’d still be glad to see me. I needed somewhere to go, after all. “Can you bring me to him?”

Kimura grinned. “Certainly! That’s perfect, in fact, as we were just bringing one of his shipments back to Kyoto when His Lordship stopped us. We won’t even have to go out of our way.”

This delighted me as much as anything. “Thank you so much, Kimura-san!” I enthused. The captain grinned and nodded an acknowledgement while a bright blush returned to his features. I returned my attention to the letter on the floor, then picked it up.

ヒロちゃん

I couldn’t even begin to guess why Yasha let me go. And after all, perhaps it would be better not to know. I could tear this letter up, accept my unexpected liberty as a gift from heaven, and never look back. I _was _curious, but not all curiosities are worth pursuing, right? Why not let this mystery go unsolved?

Then, I remembered that I had another 200 years to live. If I destroyed the letter, I would have two centuries to regret – or at least to agonize over whether it was the right decision. So after taking a deep breath, I slid the cord off the letter and began to unfold it. Kimura slid back against the wall to grant me privacy. Inside the letter, I saw columns upon tiny columns of characters written in Yasha’s thin, peculiar script. In more than one place, entire rows had been botted out, and more than a few of the remaining kanji looked withered and skewed, as though written by a shaky hand. But putting all of that aside, I moved my gaze to the start of the letter and began to read.

****

Sato no Hiroshi,

As I write this, night is about to descend for the second time since I put you to sleep. This is now my third attempt to write you this letter, and I fear that I will not survive a fourth. So, although I still have not adequate words for what I must say, I am resolved in spite of grief, guilt, and my own inexperience with writing letters, to finish this tonight.

I am about to give an explanation for my deeds in the six and a half years since we met. Whatever you take from this letter, do not think that I am making excuses. I am not. I cannot. There are no excuses for my sins – I only offer the explanation that I believe you are owed. I apologize without hope of forgiveness. And now I will begin.

You know from an earlier conversation of… what motivated me to destroy your village, so I will not repeat it in full. As for what happened afterward… After I left, and the spite and rage I had felt died down, I realized that… I felt no better. It had all been pointless. Things were so quiet over the next few days. There was nothing left to remind me of the villagers and the happiness that I could not be a part of, and yet I could think of little else.

In particular, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two humans I’d seen making love to one another at the edge of the woods, and who were planning to marry each other. I must have masturbated to the memory of them at least twice every day. At the time, I felt angry at them. I felt angry at your village. I felt angry at my own estrangement from things like family and society. It’s only recently that I realized that the anger I felt was truly regret – an emotion to which I was so unfamiliar that I misidentified it. Or… I suppose I did recognize some regret when, in an effort to pull my mind away from the young couple, I started to fantasize based more on the old romances I’d read, and I suddenly felt the selfish desire to have a wife of my own… or at least a woman of my own.

Yet I was a killer, a demon, and an outcast without heritage. To swim a hundred leagues to the nearest human settlement, capture or seduce a woman from a city, then either leave her defiled to send an onmyoji after me, or spirit her away for her father to do the same…. I would be hunted down for the rest of my days, and fate would ensure my destruction as punishment for defying its judgement.

Or… perhaps I just didn’t want to make the journey. I just remember feeling bitter and spiteful, haunting listlessly about the woods near the village I had destroyed and… dreaming of how things would be different for me if I could but have my way.

Then, you appeared. The first human I’d seen in the week or so since I burned down the village.

When I first heard you, a lot of thoughts came to mind. I thought it was too good to be true… and when I saw you were a boy, it seemed I was right. Yet… my attention was on you, and I felt reluctant to leave you alone. When you ran to the village, I followed you. I watched the wild look that came into your eyes, heard the ragged pace of your breathing, and saw the way your face screwed up with emotion as you confronted me. The whole time, I kept thinking to myself, ‘_It’s a shame he isn’t a girl. He would be perfect._’ I suppose it’s because of that constant, distracting thought that I didn’t notice – or rather ignored – your grief. When you tried to punch me, I thought it was pitifully cute. Amusing. And I only now understand how cruel that was. You just looked so weak and helpless, and you were all alone just like I was. I started to wonder just how much it really mattered that you weren’t a girl.

Is that not… sickening? That I was all the more attracted to you for your vulnerability and isolation? I knew it was possible for men to have sex with each other, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with it. The whole time, even after I… began… I still planned to just discard you when I was through. It wasn’t until I was actually inside of you that I began to have second thoughts. I heard you screaming, I saw you weeping, I felt you struggling to get away from me, and you probably suspect that I enjoyed all of that. Maybe on some level I did. Mostly, though, I disregarded it. I was still thinking of the couple I’d seen and the stories I’d read about lovemaking. Having sex for the first time felt so good, and I just didn’t want it to end.

So when I learned you were a virgin, I took it as a sign that I was meant to have you, and that my lonely exile had been granted relief. You said at the time that it was ridiculous, and I must finally admit that you were right. I was grasping at straws. I believed what I wanted to believe, and I used the first justification that I came up with.

On some level, I knew that what I was doing was wicked. At the very least, I could see how angry and frightened you were. But I’d read so many stories about women who – though initially taken against their will – come to fall in love with the men who take them. That was why I invented that contest. In part, as you said, I wanted some evidence that our union had legitimacy. I hoped to literally _win _your consent. Also… I wanted to test my sexual prowess. I did not love you, of course. We’d only just met. But I thought you were decently attractive, even for a man, and I fantasized about having a sweet, doting wife to keep me company and worship me – if not love me. I knew that if my sex was awful, then that would be impossible. So I thought that, if I could _force _you to cum, like those ravished maidens I’d read about, then I would be able to earn your loyalty in the end. To be unyieldingly honest… I was conflating an orgasm with a love confession. It was stupid and juvenile. I know that now.

I had some misgivings that I should have heeded more. Especially when we were passing by the Sanzu River, and you woke up just then – just as the ferry carrying the souls of your family was pushing away from the shore. The fact that there’d been such a long delay in their crossing over… I should have read deeper into that. But I ignored it.

I kept forming fantasies of how my life would be different. I convinced myself that, in spite of all difficulties and all the ways that I’d hurt you, all I had to do was take care of you and act like one of the heroes in my romances, and you were guaranteed to fall in love with me. Then, when things didn’t start going the way I’d planned, I took it out on you.

I always blamed you. I thought that you were willful, stubborn, ignorant, and ungrateful. When you ran from me, when you reminisced about your family – when you did anything that showed you to be unhappy, I got angry and tried to punish you. You were right in calling me a villain, because that’s exactly how I acted. And I’m so, so sorry for that.

But I really thought that I loved you, or… was _coming _to love you. I guess the ways I found to express it are just another strike against me. Try as I might, I can’t ignore the fact that my affection for you was always predicated on the assumption that you would love me sooner or later. I wanted to make you happy because I thought it was the way to win your heart.

That only changed on the day of your 20th birthday. I suppose you probably don’t remember this particular detail so well, but… When you offered me your second mochi, and I was so reluctant to take it, you said to me, “Food is always better when it’s shared with someone you love.”

That… surprised me a lot. I had to think really hard to figure out why: It was the first time you’d said that you loved me of your own accord. Always before then, either I’d told you to say it, or I’d said it first and so compelled you to respond.

You saying it on your own moved me more deeply than I can say – more deeply that I even realized at the time. The notion that you might have been saying it out of self-protection honestly hadn’t occurred to me. I just knew that you’d said it at a time when I was really, genuinely trying to make you happy, and for a little while, it seemed like you were. Seeing you that happy, knowing it was because of me, felt happier than I’d ever felt before in my life. Even now, I could almost cry thinking about it. I wanted to make you smile like that all the time.

Then came the Elixir of Life.

As I said, I liked you very early on. You were fun to have around. Having one place to go back to day after day after day, having somebody to take care of, knowing that you would be home whenever I came back from a hunt and when I woke up in the morning, sharing my thoughts and feelings and experiences with somebody I liked… I felt joy. It was something I never wanted to lose. And while the lengthening of your hair and the paling of your skin made you look more and more beautiful by the day, they also served as a reminder that you were mortal. I didn’t want to lose you.

Even with all the work I had to do to gather the ingredients and entice the medicine seller to brew the Elixir, I was happy. I thought it was going to be the best gift I could possibly give you – give us both.

When you didn’t like the gift, I was… I think ‘shaken’ is the best word for it. I was scared and angry and confused all at once, because you rejected what I’d done to make you happy. The way I’d tried hardest to make you smile. The only safe way to length our time together. You thought of it as a curse. That really… _really _hurt.

And yet, the memory of you calling me somebody you loved was fresh in my mind, along with all the happiness I’d seen in your face up until then. So when you told me about your family in the Afterlife and just how much you missed them… it got to me. That was when I first caught a glimpse of the true pain I’d caused you and came somewhere close to understanding the it. I regretted what I’d done, and I ached for the power to drive that pain out of your eyes and make you happy like you’d been just a few minutes ago.

Afterwards… I didn’t handle myself so well, as you recall. You were only being honest and loyal to your loved ones, and I raged at you because of it. Even at the time, my anger only held out for a few hours before I realized that I was the one at fault. I had actually decided to find one more birthday present, bring it back, and apologize to you for the way I acted.

Then I got bitten by that naga and… side-tracked. No, even that’s being too generous. I used it as an excuse to stay angry at you for a little longer because it was easier than apologizing. I kept telling myself that I would make it up to you once I’d recovered, but… then I got side-tracked again when the venom started to arouse me, and then it spread to you. I had tried to stop it from doing that… I’d been so careful at first, making sure not to touch you, nor let you touch me… I didn’t even want to touch anything you were holding, lest you be contaminated by my aura. But I was getting worse, and I wanted to get a good look at you so I’d have a reason to keep fighting. It was… stupid of me.

In the morning, I was so relieved by the memory of how aggressively amorous you’d been – of how genuinely _interested _in me you’d been – that I chose to look no further into it. I ignored the possibility that you’d acted that way _only _because of your lustful delirium. I just wanted to believe that everything was alright and move on. And for a while, I did believe my own deceptions.

Yet, the seed was planted. I had begun to fall in love with you. For real, now. I suppose it was… the desire to make you happy, combined with the desire to protect you from sadness, that blossomed slowly into real love. Yet I was conflicted. My own selfish thoughts and impulses, which had long been the only way I knew how to live, had become a hinderance. They led me astray many times. Led me to make decisions that hurt you. They led me to feeling angry at you for not being happy, and I got angrier and angrier at you in proportion with my own guilt. As the evidence of your despondency grew in weight, I threw more and more energy at keeping my own denial propped up. I wanted so, so dearly to believe that your unhappiness wasn’t my fault. At the very least, I wanted to divert the issue – to make it about my failure to make you happy, instead of how I’d inflicted you with misery.

It culminated on that night when you told me that you – in spite of all I’d labored to provide for you – had no reason to be happy. It was the one thing I dreaded most. The one thing I couldn’t bear to hear. It was me and everything I’d ever done for you spat upon and thrown back in my face.

I saw red. I was so… so angry. I only had enough sense to know that I didn’t want to kill you, and I managed to hold off from doing that. I guess I wanted… to punish you or to scare you… to make you sorry for not appreciating me.

I didn’t know exactly when I would decide that my point was proven. Things could have turned so much worse.

That’s when I saw the realization of death come into your eyes – into those eyes that I had come to love so much, and after which I pined. The happiness and joy that I had longed to see in those eyes for so long finally appeared, and when you felt that death was certain for you, you smiled. It cracked all of my delusions, and my heart cracked along with them. Nothing short of death would make you truly happy. And that was my fault. So I fled.

The dog… I don’t know what made me think that was a good idea. I suppose – and this sounds laughably convoluted to me even now – I thought the problem was just that your happiness was… blocked up somehow. That you were miserable because you were holding in all the affection that you refused to give to me, and that having someone or something else on whom to direct that affection would let it flow more easily to me as well. I didn’t like the thought of having to share your affection with anyone else, but… I thought for my own part that the dog was fairly cute and might be nice to have around, so it wouldn’t be a problem.

I wasn’t ready for the possibility that you would refuse it outright. But … I guess you’ve always been able to see the parts of myself that I refuse to even look at. From the start, I hadn’t consciously planned to hurt – nor even threaten to hurt – the puppy. But when I did, you weren’t surprised. Not even the littlest bit. You forced me to confront what a bastard I was and had been. No matter how stubborn I thought you were being, I was the one holding the spear. So I brought the puppy back to where I’d found him and returned him to his owner. After that, I just… really didn’t know what to do.

I’ve already told you the story of how I came by the sake, and of the lengths I went to in getting it. What I didn’t mention was the rather less than noble intention I had. I know this will sound stupid, but I had formed the long-shot hope that if I could just manage to have one good night with you – like your birthday had almost been, then that would somehow make everything better. At the very least, I hoped it would give us a place from which reparations could start. I had missed your 21st and 22nd birthdays through a mixture of apathy, inattention, and idiotic pride, so this sake seemed like it would be a great opportunity – perhaps even my best hope. I thought it would work. I really, really hoped it would work. And for a moment there, I thought it had.

Then, as your thoughts turned to memories of your family, and you started to cry…

(Here, a full three columns of text had been blotted out before the letter continued.)

Oh my god… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, truly sorry, Sato no Hiroshi. Even as I write these words, I feel their inadequacy, but it’s true all the same. I am sorry, and it’s partially because when I heard you talking about your family in grief, I realized how happy you’d been when you were with them, and just how terribly I had wounded you. It was, and is, unforgivable. And then, when from the depths of your grief, you turned to me for comfort, I suspected terribly even at the time that it couldn’t be true. I pulled you into my arms, kissed you, made love to you, and all the while I tried to shut out the voice in my heart warning me that it was just a dream brought on by drink.

It almost didn’t surprise me when you woke up screaming later that night. It frightened me, but I knew that it – or something like it – was coming. I think I told you that you were screaming, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ over and over again? That’s true… but there was more. You also screamed out that you didn’t love me, that you hadn’t meant it when you said that you did, and that you didn’t even _want _to love me. Worst of all, you pleaded for your family not to leave you. Over and over again, you called their names and cried, “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me here alone.”

I also never told you that, while you were thrashing around and screaming, while I was restraining you from hurting yourself, while I was tending to you vomiting, all the while I was crying. You were in so much pain, and it was because of me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t make your pain stop. I couldn’t help you, even though I wanted to so badly. All I could do was clean you up, give you water, and hope that this was just a temporary fit that would pass, and you would be sane again. And it was.

By the time you woke up, I had done all the crying I could do. I’d stayed awake the whole night to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself again. When you woke up, I hid that fact from you, along with a lot of other things you probably had a right to know.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have let you go then and there. I should have let you go. But I didn’t.

I was a coward, Hiroshi. That’s the truth. I was afraid. I didn’t want to be alone again. You’re the only person who I’ve ever loved, and I was too selfish and too cowardly to send you away when it was clear that you would never – _could _never – love me back. Instead, I looked the other way. I kept casting my mind back to your 20th birthday when you’d said it so casually, as if it were by accident. In desperation, I told myself that there was still a chance that you could love me – or at least be happy – if I took good care of you and went a long while without giving you any fresh reasons to hate me. And for three years, I supported myself on that tenuous delusion. I told myself, “He’ll come around. He’ll come around. He has to. I love him so much. He’ll come around.”

For three years, I took no great risks, but I tended to you with all my strength. I did everything I could. Some days I was so burnt out from hope and agitation, it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and not lash out at you. Other days, I manufactured hope out of the ether and did everything I could to make you happy – or at least to make it clear that I loved you. But day after day, while my heart swelled with unrequited love, I watched you get worse and worse. I watched the light in your beautiful eyes get dimmer and dimmer, heard your throat swelling shut with emptiness, felt your heart growing colder and colder as you slipped away in spite of all my efforts to hold onto you. It’s like you were dying before my very eyes.

Then, three nights ago, I had a dream. I saw your father, and I was angry. I blamed him as the reason that you didn’t love me, and I stabbed him in the heart. But when I looked down, it was you who had fallen to the ground, bleeding out your chest. Panicking, I fell to my knees and tried to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. But everywhere I pressed, the blood only gushed out faster while I called out your name, weeping and trying to save you. At the moment of your death, your face bore an expression I had become all too accustomed to seeing in the waking world.

That’s what made me realize I had to ask you about it. I couldn’t just trust to my own head – or my own heart – anymore, because they were both constantly leading me astray. I had to know the truth, and it had to come from you, and I had to do it right away, before you were too far gone. So I asked you for the truth. And you gave it to me.

I’m so sorry, Sato no Hiroshi. I’m so sorry for everything, and if you never forgive me, then it’s only just. The pain I feel as I write this is almost beyond enduring, but I know that I have no right to complain. The pain which I feel, I have inflicted on you five times over for each of your family members, and at least another hundred times for all of your neighbors and friends, and everything else I’ve done to you since then. I did that to you. I am beyond forgiveness. Nothing I do will ever make it right.

But it’s time that I make what petty reparation I can. I’m going to let you go. I love you so much, Hiro-chan. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I love you with the whole of my being. I know that you may never believe this, but I am torn apart by the truth of it. And though I will live out the rest of my days in agony as fitting punishment for my sins, you at least deserve to have a chance at happiness.

After sealing this letter, I’m going to bring you back to the world of men, bring you onto the first smuggling or merchant vessel I encounter, and order them to bring you wherever you wish to go. Hiroshi, I know that even after I’ve done this, you may still wish to die. But please… Please… although I know that I have no right to beg this of you, please…. Don’t die. Don’t commit suicide. Please. You don’t have to. The world is enormous, and I have heard even humans who suffered the most terrible of losses find joy enough to laugh, and love, and live on. There is good in this world to rival the evil I have done, and I fervently pray that you find it. You deserve it. Don’t feel guilty or ashamed of anything you thought, said, or did while I held you prisoner, because it was all my fault. I deserve the blame for every bit of it, not you. Please, let me alone be punished. I deserve it. Not you.

I’ve packed a trunk with all of the most valuable things I’ve given you over these last six years. You can keep any of them that you think are useful, or sell them at a high price to start a new life over with the funds. The robes alone may buy you into a wealthy family where you will have no need of anything.

At the top of the trunk, folded up in a red napkin, you will find something you do not recognize: a coral necklace. I had intended to give it to you some time ago, but I never found the right moment. Now, it shall serve another purpose.

I have lain a spell on that necklace. If you are ever in need, dip the coral jewel of that necklace into a bay, river, coastline, or any body of water that feeds directly into the ocean, and call my name. No matter where I am, I will hear it. It may take me some time to reach you, but when I arrive, I will do anything you ask of me. Anything. I am your slave ere you call me. I cannot make up for what I’ve done, but I owe you that much.

Goodbye, Sato no Hiroshi.

Take care.

Yasha

P.S. There is a thing I neglected to mention before. A thing which you deserve to know, lest it cause you trouble because you were ignorant of it. From the time I first brought you to the realm, I’ve made some modifications to your appearance through the aide of potions and ointments. From the beginning, I chose not to tell you of them on a hunch that you would object. I refused to bring you a mirror based on that same suspicion. This hunch was supported by your reaction to the Elixir of Life.

You recall discovering that your body hair had fallen out? That was my doing. And when you felt sure that it couldn’t have been natural, I summoned the doctor entirely to allay your suspicions. It was my doing all along. The doctor was the very same medicine seller who’d given me the potion to make you lose your body hair.

There were other changes as well, but I cannot explain them now in full; my grief and guilt bring me close to paralysis. As soon as you are able, find a mirror and see for yourself. You must be aware of that much at least. Find one as soon as possible. Ask the captain if he has a mirror so you can see it for yourself. Once more… for this too, though you are so beautiful… I’m sorry

Goodbye.

****

By the time I finally finished reading Yasha’s letter, my head was swimming with memories. I remembered each scene that the letter had called to mind and tried to imagine them the way that Yasha had described, but I couldn’t. It just… didn’t happen. I didn’t know what to think.

Then I reached a hand up and rubbed one of my cheeks. It had had a tear on it. Just one. I refused to assign it any significance.

Unable to think of how to remark on the letter to Captain Kimura, who was still sitting close by, I returned to the start of the letter and began to skim through it for a second time. A question occurred to me about halfway through.

“Captain,” I asked, “are you sure it was Yasha himself who wrote this letter?”

Kimura scratched his head and gave the question some careful consideration. “Well that’s… more than I can speak to, Sato-sama. I know that His Lordship himself was the one who gave me the letter and to me to give it to you. His Lordship never explicitly stated that the letter was from him, and it was already written and sealed before it came into my care. But if His Lordship was carrying that letter one someone else’s behalf, Sato-sama yourself would probably know that better than any of us, being the only one to read the letter.”

I’d known the question to be pointless when I asked it, of course. I hadn’t seen very much of Yasha’s handwriting, but the style was very unique. This was it, and no mistake.

Another thought occurred to me just as I was about to resume skimming the letter. “‘Sama’ isn’t necessary, you know,” I said to the captain.

“Pardon?” asked Kimura, straightening up a little more.

“As I’ve said, I’m not nobility.” I wore what I hoped was a friendly smile so he wouldn’t think I was reproaching him. “Hiroshi is just fine.”

Kimura blushed dark red. “Oh… that’s… very gracious of you, Hiroshi-sama.”

I gave a good-natured little laugh, but it probably sounded like a cough. “No, really! The ‘sama’ isn’t necessary. You’re older than me, after all. You may say my first name without honorific, or with just ‘san’ if that’s too casual.”

Kimura was so flustered by this he could barely speak. “That’s… that truly is very generous of you, but…” His eyes flicked back and forth as though alert for eavesdroppers. “His Lordship was very clear that we were to treat you with the _utmost _respect. I wouldn’t wish to seem insubordinate now by referring to your Grace in such a forward manner. Hiroshi-sama is really as much as I dare.”

I stared at the captain dubiously. I knew as well as anyone that Yasha had supernatural hearing, so what captain Kimura was suggesting was certainly possible. But would Yasha follow us all this way just to listen in and make sure that I was spoken to with formality?

That thought pulled my attention back to the letter in my hands. I finished skimming it inside of a few minutes. The trunk Yasha had spoken of was at the foot of my bunk, but just then my attention was focused more on the message contained in the post script. A feeling of cold dread began to grow in the pit of my belly.

“Captain,” I said, resting the letter in my lap. “I wonder if, by some chance, you have a mirror on board?”

His lips moved in the shape of the word ‘mirror’ while he stared contemplatively into space. Then he returned his attention to me with an apologetic sigh. “I’m quite sorry, Hiroshi-sama. One port earlier, we had a large and truly gorgeous mirror, but it was sold as a special order to…” He trailed off. Then his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Ah, but wait! The buyer never showed up! So if I’m not mistaken, it should still be down in the hold. Would you like me to bring it up for you?”

I smiled shyly. “I would, but only if it’s no trouble. You’re doing so much for me already.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Hiroshi-sama!” the captain beamed. “The weather is steady, and this is the time of day when most of my crew is looking for a way to slack discreetly. The exercise will do them some good.” With that, he bowed low and swiftly slipped out the door. In the ensuing silence, I wondered just how big this mirror of his really was.

Pretty large, actually. It took Kimura and four of his men a full fourteen minutes to bring it up to my cabin from the hold. In the meantime, I had little to do except skim through Yasha’s letter a third time, then have a look inside the trunk. True to his word, lying at the very top upon a folded navy kimono, there was a napkin all folded up neatly. From between the folds of this napkin, I withdrew a necklace. Its cord was black, and its pendant was a piece of light blue coral that reminded me instantly of the barrier that surrounded the realm. In disgust, I threw the necklace into a corner of the trunk and slammed the lid shut, trying to block out the memory.

I was still sitting in front of the trunk when Kimura’s men arrived and started to maneuver the mirror inside. Uneasy, I kept my eyes on the wood of the trunk, not daring to peak over my shoulder. I hadn’t seen my reflection in six years. I would need to try and remember what I’d looked like back then. I couldn’t even guess how I’d changed.

By the time the men had deposited the mirror and departed, I thought I had a fair recreation of what I’d looked like at 19 in my head. From that I formed an idea of what I should look like after 6 years of aging. Still, I hesitated.

Kimura was still in the room, having taken up his previous position. He waited a little while after things had gone quiet, then cleared his throat. “Everything is set up for you, Hiroshi-sama.”

For a moment, I considered telling him something of my misgivings, but… no. He wouldn’t understand, and there was no reason to burden him with it. So instead, I acted as though I’d merely been lost in thought all this time and responded with a surprised, “Oh! Right.” Then I slid over to the corner where the mirror was set up. It was indeed a very large mirror – designed to stand up unsupported and display a viewer’s entire body.

I observed this all from the corners of my vision, deciding in advance not to be standing when I took this glimpse. When my knees were almost touching the wooden base of the mirror, I looked up.

I forgot where I was.

I forgot what I’d been doing.

My mind was overridden by the need to overcome the trick that was being played on it.

Then I breathed, saw the nostrils flare and chest swell in the reflection, and realized that that… _face_… was me.

But I didn’t recognize it. It was a stranger’s face. It was a _woman’s _face. I’d have thought she was beautiful – bewitchingly lovely – except that it was supposed to be me. I tried to move my head this way and that to see if she moved as well, but it was like sleep paralysis had invaded my waking body. Her motions were so minute, I couldn’t be sure it was really her head moving and not just some trick of the light. Voiceless, I mouthed, “who…” and saw her lips shape the syllables:

だ。。。れ。。。

Finally, I managed to lift up my hands and touch my face. My reflection followed with no delay, and I saw the tips of her elegant fingers touch her cheeks at exactly the same moment that mine did. “How…” It was me. It really was.

My skin was soft, smooth, flawless, and as white as milk. It was a white for which geisha and kabuki actors require paint. My lips were less dramatic, but even their pale pink stood out starkly inside that bank of snowy skin. My eyes…

They shouldn’t have surprised me. Yasha had told me of the change they underwent after drinking the Elixir of Life. I’d known it. His letter even referred to it. But most of the time, I simply never thought about my eyes, especially not during these past three years. They were, just as Yasha had said, blue and green and iridescent like the hue of a peacock’s coat, and they were flecked with gold like embers close to the pupils. They were arrestingly beautiful. They were hypnotically beautiful. They were the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen – before or since.

But they weren’t mine… A stranger’s eyes stared out from my skull. I covered my mouth in terror, and still those eyes watched me.

I looked at my hair to try and tear my gaze from those alien eyes, and I saw a mantel of ebony silk trailing from my head down nearly to my waist. At one time, I’d have longed to sink my fingers – to bury my face – in such beautiful jet hair. It put even my mother’s beautiful, dark locks to shame. What was it doing on my head?

I moved my fingers from my lips, around my nose, my chin, my cheeks, and the corners of my eyes. I recalled to mind the face that I’d anticipated – the face of a 25-year-old Sato no Hiroshi. It was wrong.

After 6 years, I had not aged a day. In fact, I looked at least a year _younger _than I had on the day I left my parents’ house for Kyoto. This was why Captain Kimura had called me a princess. I looked like the fresh, virginal daughter of an emperor in the flower of youth, ready to be sought by all the brave and wealthy young men of the empire. My chest heaved with panic. I watched as that pretty young face crumpled up in despair. It wasn’t me. That wasn’t… _I _was no longer Sato no Hiroshi.

“Hiroshi-sama?” Captain Kimura asked as my breath heaved harder. “No, no, no! No, don’t cry!” Kimura insisted, and from the corner of the mirror I saw him sliding closer with an expression of urgent concern.

But I couldn’t stop. The first tears were already starting to roll down my cheeks. I could feel my shoulders trembling – the wails swelling within my chest. I opened my mouth to grant vent to my horror.

Then Kimura, with a scream, flung himself prostrate at my side, crying out, “No, Sato-sama, please don’t cry! I beg of you! He’ll hear you! He’ll think we’ve hurt you, and then he’ll come back and slaughter us! Oh please don’t cry Sato-sama!” The man’s abject panic seemed to hack the floor out from under my own tears. I stared at him, all despair driven out of me by shock, and I watched him weep and beg with his face against the floor. “He said he would! He warned us that if any harm came to you while you were in our care, he’d kill us all and string our guts from the topmast! Please, Sato-sama, I have a girl and three wives who depend on me! If I die, they’ll be all alone in the world.” He gathered his knees up under him and started to kowtow shamelessly as he’d been doing earlier. “I beg of you, Sato-sama, please don’t cry! We will serve you, we’ll communicate you quickly to Boss Shiragawa, and I’ll even give you my full salary from the voyage! Just don’t cry!

“Please, Sato-sama… I don’t know what your story is, nor how you and His Lordship are acquainted, nor why what you see in the mirror disturbs you so. I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, and for whatever’s caused you such pain, but please… wait till we make landfall. Wait just till then. Please… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I don’t want to die…”

“Alright!” I set a hand upon his shoulder to stop his bowing and get him to listen. Kimura’s display had given me some perspective, and my cheeks were dry again. If it was a matter of life and death, then I could contain my emotions for a little while longer. “It’s okay, Captain Kimura. I may need to cry at some point, but… I’ve been set free. That’s the most important thing right now. I just need to keep that in mind.”

His eyes shone hopefully as he looked up at me. “R-really?”

“Mhm!” I smiled at him reassuringly. For a moment I started to back over my shoulder, but stopped myself before I caught my reflection in the mirror again. “Just… have your men take the mirror away, and I should be able to keep it together as long as I don’t look at it.”

Kimura smiled at me as though I were some god of mercy come to bless him. He cried, “_My humblest thanks_!” at the top of his lungs, and then slammed his forehead violently to the deck with another frightful crack.

I yelped with a jolt, then barked, “Oh for god’s sake! Stop doing that before you kill yourself!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, what a twist, right? Right? Riiiiiiiiight? :D 
> 
> ........ Oh really, what excuse can I give? The classic line is, "if you love them, let them go." So if an abuser has a change of heart, they should set their beloved victim free, right? 
> 
> Not gonna lie... I was a miserable, sobbing mess while I was drafting Yasha's letter from a certain point on. I could barely see through the tears to make sure my pen was on the paper. It was rough. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me this far. Not much left to go. See you all in the next update.
> 
> Oh yes!~ And now that you've read this chapter, you're free to read the prologue without fear of spoilers https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846480


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We came up on Kyoto in the night. We’ll be in dock within the hour. I thought you might like to see it for yourself."

Chapter 4

At first, I was disheartened to know that it would take four days to reach Kyoto, but I think it turned out for the best. I had a lot to come to terms with. In the first place, despite my reluctance, I needed to search through the rest of the trunk’s contents. It shouldn’t have been so difficult, I guess. There was nothing terrible or surprising in the trunk – just items I’d long ago become familiar with – but somehow it felt unsettling to look at them in this new context. The feeling didn’t pass until I had taken every single item out of the trunk, examined each one thoroughly, confronted the memory associated with each, then packed them away again one at a time. It took up over half of the second day. I wound up keeping the peacock fan out because the heat persisted in my cabin throughout the voyage.

Before that, however, I had a more pressing task to perform. I hadn’t seen the sun in over six years, and I wouldn’t let my first day back in the world of the living pass without standing in daylight. I _had _to. So after the mirror had been taken out of my cabin, I asked Kimura for permission to walk abovedeck. He gallantly replied he would be honored to give me a tour of his ship, the Foam Moth.

Alas, it was more than I was ready for. The captain led me into a short hallway, at the end of which, a set of dark red curtains separated us from the deck. The beams of sunlight that leaked around the edges seemed to stab at my eyes. When we were just a few steps from the curtains, he noticed my discomfort.

“Is something the matter?” Kimura asked.

“It’s nothing,” I assured him and motioned to continue. But no sooner had his fingers begun to slide the curtain open than he saw me flinch back. He tried to talk me out of walking into the sun that day, but I wasn’t to be dissuaded. I took hold of the captain’s arm and clenched my eyes shut. “I’ll be fine. Just… lead me out to the middle of the deck. I’ll keep my eyes closed until we reach it, and then we can go back inside.”

I could sense his reluctance through his sleeve, but in the end Kimura decided to humor me. He started to draw the curtain aside, and I gripped the back of his kimono with my other hand for added stability and bowed my head low. In this manner, we walked out onto the deck. I felt like a child clinging to their parent’s robe.

The rays of the sun stung oppressively on the back of my hands and neck. Even with my eyes clamped shut, it hurt. Then I cringed as the captain raised his voice to be heard by the whole crew.

“Attention! Order!” he called. “All show respect for his Grace, Sato no Hiroshi!”

The bustle of the top deck all quieted down as they turned their attention toward me. I felt a heat in my cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun. “Kimura-san,” I muttered, tugging at his sleeve.”

“Yes, Hiroshi-sama?” He leaned closer, matching my discreet tone.

Shyly, still unable to look and see how close his ear was, I whispered, “That’s… too much, Kimura-san.”

It seemed to get the point across. After stiffening slightly with embarrassment, he offered a subdued, “My apologies,” then led me forward. From surprisingly close by, I could hear a few of Kimura’s men whispering to each other too loudly to quite go unheard.

“That’s got to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” one of them said in apparent awe.

“Cute, too,” came another. “Damn, but what I wouldn’t give to have her clinging to _my _kimono liked that. I bet she-”

I heard the distinctive sound of knuckles meeting skull and the sentence was cut short. “You shut your blasphemous mouth,” hissed a voice. “We’re still at open sea. Do you want His Lordship to hear you and come to punish us all?”

“No!” the voice that had spoken before replied. “Sorry, just forgot my manners for a second. She’s just…”

“You mean ‘he,’” a new voice whispered. “Didn’t the captain say his name was ‘Hiroshi’ just now?”

“What?” This was the first voice again. “Don’t be stupid. There’s no _way _that could be a man. Just look at her! Even the way she stands and walks is dripping with femininity.”

“Will you _please _put a plug in that kind of talk before you get us all killed?!” snapped the second voice.

This was such a staggering breath of etiquette that I didn’t know what to say at first. How could they go on talking to each other like this right where I could hear them? Why wasn’t Captain Kimura saying anything? He didn’t seem like the type to tolerate such rudeness, and yet he continued leading me out toward the center of the deck like nothing was happening.

In the end, it was more than I could abide. Grinding my heels in, I forced Kimura to a halt, then twisted toward the indiscreet sailors with my head still lowered. Pitching my voice in a polite tone and conversational volume, I answered mildly, “No, your companion heard correctly. I am a man.”

Kimura said nothing to this. The first speaker whispered again, “What? Did she say something? Was that to us?”

A mixture of embarrassment and anger flushed hot under my skin. “I said I’m a man!” I barked. I pried my eyes open and lifted my head to glare directly at the sailor I meant to address. Two things hindered this plan: The sun was so blindingly bright that all appeared as smudges of color amidst a haze of white. And where I expected the sailor’s face to be, there instead seemed to be several sets of feet standing on an elevated deck more than a stone’s throw distant. I beheld the sight for only a second, and then I had to close my eyes again and hide my face in the crook of my arm.

Once again, I heard the man whispering as though he were in arm’s reach, “Oh my god, did you see her eyes? I mean… his eyes… I still can’t believe-”

“Shut up!” hissed his companion before knocking once more on his skull.

“Sato-sama…” Kimura’s voice, though soft-spoken, sounded shockingly loud and close for just an instant. Then it fell back to its usual, discreet volume. “Perhaps you should return to your cabin for the time.”

I found it curious that he didn’t say anything to or about his men, but the mystery wasn’t at the top of my priorities just then. “I want to see…” I said, and I was surprised to find myself getting oddly choked up. “It’s been six years… I want to see it!”

“Please, your Grace,” Kimura said, as it would quickly become his habit to call me whenever I was making him especially anxious. “His Lordship charged me to ensure your comfort as well as your safety.”

That gave me pause. If Yasha _was _listening as they suspected, he might misinterpret my sounds of anguish. I could perhaps call him off before he actually hurt anyone, but slim chance of me convincing the others of that. It was selfish of me to put Kimura through all this right now. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

The captain seemed immediately calmer as he turned me about and led me back to the cabin. “There’s no need to apologize, Hiroshi-sama. Your eagerness is perfectly understandable. It may just take some time.”

“Right,” I replied disconsolately.

“Perhaps,” Kimura added after a thoughtful pause, “if you’re not too tired tonight, you can come back abovedeck again and take the night air. That shouldn’t hurt your eyes.”

I considered this hopefully for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

“The full moon comes tomorrow as well, so the skies should be as bright and beautiful as one could wish for.”

That got a genuine smile out of me, and I clutched the back of his kimono a little tighter. “Okay. Thank you so much, Kimura-san.”

My cabin seemed much darker when we returned to it. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the small window hardly let any light in. Had my eyes not still been adjusted to the dimness of the realm, I could only have read Yasha’s letter by holding it directly up to the window. But that was suitable for now. After that short trip above deck, I dearly needed to lie down.

*****

The captain turned out to be right. The moonlit night didn’t hurt my eyes at all, but it was bright enough to help me adjust to natural lights. The next morning, after standing in front of the curtain for a minute, I was able to walk about abovedeck without being blinded. I overheard no more rude chatter amongst Shiragawa’s crew. Perhaps he’d had a stern word with them while I was napping.

Unfortunately, my pale skin soaked up the daytime sun to the point of overheating, and I could only walk outside for a few minutes at a time. Though, Captain Kimura’s constant warnings about sunburn may have had more than a little to do with it as well. Without wishing to sound ungrateful, I could never quite be at my ease around Kimura’s hectic energy, nor around most of his crew. That was a problem, because I was seldom at ease on my own either. Especially not at night.

I stayed in my cabin most of each day, fanning myself and stewing in my own thoughts. I had Yasha’s letter, but I didn’t want to open it any more than necessary. The same could be said of the trunk. For this reason, it didn’t take me long to start sleeping as much as I could during the day so I could wander freely at night – without upsetting Kimura-san. Those moments sitting closer to the helm and staring up at the moon, feeling it lightly warm my skin with its rays, were the closest I came to feeling peace. But even then, there was a knot of tension in my belly that wouldn’t go away.

Perhaps it was the suddenness with which I’d been released. After six years, I still couldn’t believe it was over. I kept bracing myself for the moment Yasha would return, leap aboard the ship, and take me back to the Underworld. It was hard to fall asleep on the first night, and I couldn’t seem to get to sleep at all after that. So I would go up to the deck, sit down on the steps leading up to the helm, and stare up at the stars. There, the sound of the waves, the creak of timbers, and the hum of moonbeams would gradually lull me into a drowse until the helmsman noticed me drifting off and urged me back to my quarters.

At last, the day came when a gentle hand brushed against my shoulder, and I jolted awake with a defensive flinch and my teeth clamped shut. Captain Kimura was sitting as close as he dared, already looking fretful, and with a fresh apology at the ready.

“I’m terribly sorry, Hiroshi-sama. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I allowed myself to fall back into the bunk. “No, that’s alright,” I mumbled. “I was… I think I was having a bad dream just now. I should thank you for waking me.”

Kimura’s shoulders untensed a little. “That’s good, then. I came to wake you because we came up on Kyoto in the night. We’ll be in dock within the hour. I thought you might like to see it for yourself.”

That shook off the morning drowsiness in an instant. I sat up, and the sheets fell down to my waist. “We’re here?” I exclaimed. For a moment, I felt the morning breeze against my bare chest. This wouldn’t have been a remarkable detail, but after seeing my chest for only a moment, Kimura averted his gaze hastily and blushed exactly as if he’d seen a woman’s chest exposed. That in turn made me feel needlessly self-conscious, and I pulled the blanket up to my collar while trying to keep the conversation going. “Will Shiragawa-san be at his office today? Will I need to see customs first? How far is it from the docks to Shiragawa-san’s office?”

Under this barrage of pertinent questions, Kimura was forced to lay his embarrassment aside. He lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Just a moment, Hiroshi-sama. Let’s consider one matter at a time. Also…” He bent over to the floor and lifted a tray into sight. It had a steaming bowl of rice gruel and a steaming cup of brown tea. “Here. It wouldn’t do to see the city on an empty stomach.”

I had to let the blanket back down to accept the tray, but now Kimura was very careful not to look at me directly. “Thank you,” I said, straightening up so I could lay the tray over my lap. “_Itadakimasu._” What few spices had been on board the Foam Moth, had all been used up two days ago, and so a dollop of red bean paste had been dropped into the middle of the gruel to sweeten it. It was too simple a meal to be called ‘delicious,’ but I savored it nonetheless.

As I began to eat, Kimura talked logistics. “There will be customs, but I know all the inspectors at the port. You have that noble bearing about you… so I’ll tell them that you ‘chartered passage’ aboard our vessel. Just keep your gaze leveled over their shoulders, and they’ll think you’re a visiting dignitary or the like. They won’t even demand to inspect your trunk. This being Sunday, Boss Shiragawa will probably be at home. We’ll get the cargo unloaded and all salaries paid, then I’ll hire a carriage and escort you to Shiragawa’s estate.”

I hastily swallowed a mouthful of gruel and waved in polite refusal with the hand still holding my spoon. “You don’t have to, really! You’ve already done so much, I can’t impose on you any further. I’ve been to Kyoto before, and I should be able to find my way on my own.”

To my surprise, Captain Kimura shook his head adamantly. “The estate is nearly two miles from the port, and I’ve seen that you still aren’t accustomed to walking about yet. Even without His Lordship’s demands, I should still have found it unconscionable to leave you to make your way alone. I _will _escort you, Hiroshi-sama.”

I couldn’t help but feel touched in spite of myself, and I offered no further dispute to the captain’s offer. Suddenly, I felt glad my breakfast was so simple. Being this close to the capitol, I felt a little anxious.

*****

There weren’t many clouds out, but the biggest one by far was blocking the sun and casting a gloomy shadow over the city. I dressed myself in a green yukata of thin weave in anticipation of the rising heat, but as I stood on the deck and watched the ship pulling up to dock, the chill was proving reluctant to disperse. Summer must have been coming to an end.

In a way, this made me a little melancholy. To see Kyoto in the same, sweltering state it had been in during my last visit would have perpetuated the illusion that nothing had changed in my absence. The anticipation was frightening. From the seaside, Kyoto looked like some languid, thorny rock lizard reclining on a patch of grass, ready to scuttle away at the first disturbance.

The first few crates had been unloaded, and I heard Kimura step up to me as I leaned over the railing. “The inspector is here. Would you like to see him now and have that out of the way?”

I considered this for a moment. “Alright. I just need to get my trunk first.”

“No need! I’ve fetched it for you already.” I looked over my shoulder then and saw the captain with my trunk in his hands, grinning in spite of the weight. Nearby, I noticed one of his crew staring at him anxiously with an expression that seemed to say, ‘Oh captain, I _wish _you would ask for somebody’s help with that.’

“Captain,” I said in my most diplomatic tones, “isn’t that heavy? You should have me or one of your men helping you.”

In reply, his grin stretched even wider. “Don’t you worry about me, Hiroshi-sama. This is nothing for a career sailor.” To demonstrate, he made a few arm curls with the trunk in his hands and nearly did a convincing job of making it look effortless. But I could see his legs tremble beneath his hakama each time his arms were lowered.

_Honestly, this man_… “Well… alright then. But could you set it down for just a second? There’s… something I’d like to get out of it.”

Kimura did a far worse job hiding his relief than he had his fatigue as he set the trunk on the floor. “As you wish, Hiroshi-sama.”

That had worked. Now, as I opened the trunk and began to rifle through its contents, I needed to find something that would plausibly disguise my request from the contrived delaying tactic it was. After a few seconds of seemingly purposeful searching, the ideal item presented itself: my old travel pass. It had expired several years ago, of course, but it was still an official document bearing my name, lineage, and origin. I pulled it out of the trunk and straightened.

“Here we are,” I said, showing it to the captain. “This should help smooth things out if the inspector has any difficult questions. If nothing else, it certifies that I really was a resident of Umi no Mura.”

Captain Kimura leaned closer to look at it, then bit his lip after a moment’s perusal. “I’d… think carefully before showing that off, actually. Your physical description has, ah… had some developments since this was written.”

Suddenly, it felt like the day’s heat was catching up to me. I tried to loosen the sash around my yukata with a finger. “Right… That would bear some explaining… Still, Shiragawa-san will want to see it, don’t you think?”

“He may,” Kimura conceded, then cast his gaze slowly about the dock. “Let’s be on our way, then.” Thankfully, when another member of the crew came and offered to help with my trunk, Kimura accepted this time.

As it turns out, we _did _have to show the inspector my expired travel pass. I gathered in passing that this wasn’t one of Captain Kimura’s regulars – the inspector was probably a year or two younger than I was. Being new to the profession, he was trying to act very stringent in order to be taken seriously. Of course, it was a well-known fact that Umi no Mura was no more, and I couldn’t exactly be penalized for travelling outside of a village that no longer existed. This whole holdup was just an extended bureaucratic dance, and Kimura seemed perfectly willing to dance it on my behalf. So while Kimura and the inspector engaged in this bit of civil sparring, I allowed my mind and gaze to wander.

Noon couldn’t have been more than two hours away by now, and I saw crowds growing on the docks and the nearby street. Fishermen with the early morning’s catch were pulling their boats back into dock and rushing off to market. Fishermen out for the noonday catch were checking their nets and making sure they had enough provisions for the day’s work. Children chased each other screaming, laughing, and name-calling down the streets and alleyways. One merchant came by with a cart full of paper dolls, but most of the other peddlers I saw were only passing by on their way to the central market and didn’t try to hock their goods here. Increasingly as the minutes rolled by, I saw couples and families walking by – men and women came to the docks just to smell the salt breeze on their late-morning stroll.

It was a little overwhelming. The crew aboard Captain Kimura’s ship were the first humans I’d seen in 6 years, and there were only 11 of them altogether, including the captain himself. They could never have made such a clamor as the nearby pedestrians were doing. Even back in my home village, the main thoroughfare only ever got as crowded as this dockside street at the weekend. I knew from my last visit that the central market would be more than 10 times as crowded, and the din would be deafening. That was a little intimidating.

I glanced at Kimura and the inspector. Kimura was holding my travel pass again, and both men seemed far more relaxed. The captain’s charms had won the inspector over, it seems, but they were still tangled up in some mixture of policy and small talk that I couldn’t follow. Presently, the sun emerged from behind the cloud that had been covering it since we first put down the landing ramp. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes as the hot rays bore down on me and started building up heat between my skin and my green yukata.

As though energized by the emerging sun like cicadas, the pedestrians on the dock and the nearby street picked up in volume. I thought at first that something had excited them, but I couldn’t spot any change in their movements or expressions. The noise mounted louder and louder until I wanted to cover my ears. It seemed like I was right in the midst of them. Words, distinct but meaningless, imposed themselves upon my hearing. I frowned and blinked, not sure whether I should ignore all of them or try to focus on just one at a time.

“…cess, don’t you think? Some kind of noble lady.”

I blinked. That voice caught my attention, and my ears began to track its words. It was a man.

“If that’s not a princess, then she must be some kind of spirit or goddess. I mean look at her eyes! Even from here, they don’t look like human eyes.”

I turned, seeking out the source of the voice. From a double stone’s throw away, I spotted a pair of fishermen peering at me from their boat. The moment our eyes met, the men feigned a sudden interest in their nets and ducked down so only the tops of their head were visible over the lip of the boat. As I watched, though, I heard the same voice pipe up and say, “Did you see that? Our eyes touched! God, I wish I could go over and talk to her…”

Unsettled, I tore my attention away from the fishermen and looked back out at the street. Another voice caught my ear – a woman’s voice this time.

“Look at that one!” she said. “Do you see her?”

“I do,” answered another voice, just barely lower than the first. “Now I’m _glad _my husband decided to sleep in this morning. The last thing I need is for him to set his eyes on some harlot like that.”

“Hey, careful!” interjected the first woman. “Somebody could hear you. What if that’s a princess you’re talking about?”

“Use your head!” snapped the second. “Just look at the company she’s keeping. What princess would travel on the vessel of common, lowly sailors? She’s obviously just some comfort woman purchased from the mainland.”

“Careful, Yuko-chan! I think she’s looking this way.”

“She can’t hear us from here! Get a grip!”

Feeling a little sick to my stomach, I pulled my attention away once more. I noticed a pair of girls barely out of puberty, practically holding each other with excitement. After a second, a pair of high-pitched and nearly identical voices began to impress themselves on my hearing.

“… with a merchant, though. Do you think she’s here to sell oil?”

“Oh, I hope so! I want my hair to look as beautiful as hers!”

I looked away again, and this time my eyes came to rest on a pair of moving lips first, and my ears picked up the sound a second later. It was a woman again, and I could tell from her stance and gestures that she was scolding her husband. My hearing caught up with her a moment later. “… at home! I’ve already heard Shinji talking about girls he passes in the street like they were wenches in a brothel, saying lewd things about total strangers! And just whose fault do you think that is? You gander at every pretty woman you see like… Don’t look away when I’m talking to you!”

The man she was addressing returned his eyes to her. I couldn’t hear is voice, but I saw his lips shaping the words: ‘she’s looking this way now.’

His wife stopped herself just in time to keep from meeting my gaze, then returned, “I don’t care if she’s walking over here to offer you a roll in the hay! If you look at her again, I swear I-”

I tore my gaze to the other end of the street, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. A cluster of rough-looking boys ranging in age from 14 to 18 had come around the corner a moment or two ago, and every single one of them was openly staring at me. As our gazes met, a few of them started jabbering excitedly. “Whoa, the babe just looked at me! She noticed me!”

“Yeah, well look away before you scare her off with your pimply mug! Besides, she was clearly lookin’ at me!”

“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?”

“Cause I’m the best lookin’ one here, and I’ve got four times more experience with girls as any of you. Women can tell when a guy’s got experience. Especially the good lookin’ babes like that.”

“Yeah, well maybe you ought’a leave a little ‘experience’ for the rest of us, eh aniki?” There was a general chorus of agreement from most of the younger members.

“Listen, boys,” the apparent leader rejoined with grinning condescension. “Me, and maybe Tobei here, are the only ones who could handle a real woman like that. You brats would just embarrass yourselves or get yourselves hurt. But I’ll tell you what: my bro Tobei and I will invite her out for a good time. Give her a good ol’ Kyoto welcome. Once we’re finished, she should be good and mellowed out, and then you wimps will actually have a chance with he-”

A hand waving in the corner of my vision drew my horrified attention away. Kimura and the inspector were both looking at me. The captain’s lips shaped words that I heard but indistinctly.

“What?” I said, finding myself suddenly breathless.

“Are you alright, your Grace? You look like you have a fever.” The words only came into full focus toward the end of the sentence. He was right next to me…

“I… I can hear them,” I said, feeling my stomach churn and my legs tremble.

Kimura and the inspector gave me identical, puzzled frowns. “What?”

“I could hear them… All the way over on the street. I could hear them talking as clearly as…” I stopped talking when I saw the looks the two men were giving me. It struck me abruptly just how crazy I must sound. Hastily, I switched tracks. “I… I don’t feel so good… Isn’t it… too hot out here?”

They looked almost relieved by the change of subject. The inspector slipped his piece of chalk into a pocket and his slate against his hip. “Of course! With such a fine complexion, the sun must feel terribly hot.” He glanced at Kimura. “You mentioned you’re in a hurry to be somewhere… Would you like the parasol that’s in my office?”

I was still dazed and shaky, but Kimura quickly spoke up for me. “Yes, a parasol! That would be perfect. This heat can’t be good for Sato-sama’s skin.”

“Very good,” said the inspector, bowing hurriedly to us each in turn before slipping off.

Kimura, meanwhile, shouted an order to one of his men to summon a carriage posthaste, then led me over to a crate and sat me on top of it. “I’m so sorry, Hiroshi-sama. I should have sped things along by now. We’ll get you to Boss Shiragawa’s estate in no time now.”

I sat on the crate, panting. I wanted desperately to open the folds of my yukata wider for ventilation, but… all those passersby on the street who mistook me for a woman would think that… think that…

“Captain,” I said, breathing as steadily as I could.

“Yes, Hiroshi-sama?”

“Cut my hair off.”

Kimura goggled as though I’d just ordered him to chop my tongue out. “Your Grace?”

I met his eyes, glaring. “They all think I’m a woman because of this damned hair! I want it gone. Use a knife if you can’t find any shears, but I want it gone before I-”

“That’s absolutely out of the question!” blurted Kimura with such abrupt panic that it almost sounded angry. He corrected his demeanor right away, dropping into a more apologetic tone. “I’m sorry, your Grace. But when he was laying out the terms of your passage, His Lordship specifically said we were ‘not to harm a single hair’ on your Grace’s head.”

I scowled at the captain, now genuinely frustrated and not caring to hide it. “That was obviously just a figure of speech.”

“I dare not risk it,” Kimura answered firmly. “Not now – not in sight of the shore.”

I leaned closer, almost trembling with anger, and spoke in a dangerous whisper. “He _also _told you to obey my orders, and I’m not happy right now.”

Kimura looked like he’d been slapped. His face went pale, and he shuddered in spite of the heat. The effect was so pitiful that I promptly regretted threatening him when he’d been so kind and respectful to me throughout the voyage. “Your Grace, please…” he husked. “If it’s at all reasonable to ask… please wait until you’ve met with Boss Shiragawa. I know he’ll have no problem at all getting you a haircut if you really want. Can’t you wait till then? He may even want to see for himself that you’ve had six years of hair grown since last he saw you, so as to corroborate your story. Wouldn’t that be reasonable? Huh?”

I cast a glance at the street. There were more people walking about now than there had been, but it actually seemed quieter. I couldn’t hear what anybody on the street was saying.

I sighed gently and looked back to Captain Kimura. “You’re right. I’m sorry for being so demanding just now. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’m very grateful. I’ll wait till I can see Shiragawa-san.”

He smiled in deep relief and bowed from the waist. “Thank you, Hiroshi-sama.”

Thankfully, no unexpected noises intruded on me while the inspector fetched his parasol, nor on the carriage ride to Shiragawa’s estate. People did stop and stare, and no doubt most or all of them took some false impression, but nothing could be done about that. I just kept my eyes downcast and half lidded so that, under the shade of the parasol, even those who ventured close would be unable to see their unnatural color.

The Shiragawa estate sat in a suburb at a corner of the city near Heian Palace. It was only twice as big as my family’s property back in Umi no Mura, but that was quite considerable given the cost of city living. It was protected by a beautiful wall of uniform black-clay brick, and also a hired guard with a bo staff who stood before the gate.

The guard clearly recognized Kimura and gave him a friendly nod salute as the captain dismounted the carriage and set my trunk upon the ground. Then his sights settled on me, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Kimura-san,” he said, not taking his unfriendly eyes off mine. “Who is this you’ve brought? Boss is expecting no fortune tellers nor spell maidens.”

I glared as another hot flush shot up my neck, and I was about to give the guard a piece of my mind when Kimura spoke up in tones bordering on reproach. “This is Sato no Hiroshi, the only survivor of the Umi no Mura fire. Boss Shiragawa has been hoping to see him for some time.”

The guard looked at Kimura astonished for just a moment. But when he returned his gaze to me, he seemed even more defensive than before. “Looks pretty fit and healthy for somebody who survived a fire – this _woman _who claims to be ‘Sato no Hiroshi.’”

I gripped the handle of the parasol tight and took a step toward the guard. “I am _not _a woman!”

But Kimura stretched his hand out in front of my abdomen to keep me from approaching. I could tell he was also feeling anxious and frustrated, but he moderated his voice carefully. “Your doubt is understandable, and suspicion is appropriate for one in your occupation. But I assure you, this _is _Sato no Hiroshi. I have proof of his identity.” From the fold of his kimono, he produced my expired travel permit, which I had forgotten to get back from him earlier, and held it open in front of the guard.

His eyes seemed to give the document a cursory scan without touching it, but I could tell immediately from his expression that he wasn’t going to accept it as proof. “A piece of paper doesn’t prove anything. A travel pass could easily be stolen. I should never believe that this document was in its rightful owner’s hands – not when the town of origin was burned to the ground, and the bearer looks like some witch straight from a bordello.”

My whole body shook with outrage. Kimura sputtered for a moment, then snapped, “That fire was six years ago, you simpleton! What, are you expecting him to still be covered in soot? Clearly if he’s survived this long, then somebody has been taking care of him!”

The guard did consider this, but he was definitely still leery of me. I tried to just keep my eyes on the ground and make my expression look hurt rather than angry. “Well then,” he said warily, “I suppose I can let you go in to present your case to Master Shiragawa. But sh-…” He broke off and threw another wary glance my way. “… But this alleged ‘Sato no Hiroshi’ must wait outside until Master Shiragawa personally grants entry.”

Captain Kimura huffed in agitation, then glanced to me for permission. I nodded, resigned. “Very well. And while I’m there, I’ll also relate to him how we were treated in this encounter.

“Do so,” the guard answered flippantly, then turned and pulled on one of the heavy doors. It slid forward on well-oiled hinges, groaning softly from the wood.

As Kimura started to walk through, the guard’s attention returned to me. Our eyes met, and I know I was making no effort to hide my resentment. His distrustful expression never changed, but I could swear that his shoulders rose and his breath quickened while we stared at one another. Abruptly, the guard turned smartly about and fell into step behind Captain Kimura. “I shall accompany you,” he said, carefully pitching his voice to make it sound like this had been his intent all along.

Kimura stopped, one foot already over the threshold. “What?”

The guard stood with deliberate stiffness, gripping his staff with white knuckles. His voice sounded shaky for the first few words, but quickly built in confidence. “If that she-devil has bewitched you, then it would be dangerous to let you into Master Shiragawa’s presence alone. I _must _escort you.”

This was too much. After putting up with undeserved abuse from my husband… my _erstwhile_ husband… for over half a decade, I was in no mood to start accepting it from even my own kind. “Imbecile!” I barked, handing the reigns to my temper. “How dare you! I can’t believe-”

“Your Grace, please!” Kimura called, raising a hand to request my silence. I bit off my retort, but I could tell that the guard had been priming himself for combat. Kimura addressed him levelly. “Very well. By all means, accompany me.” Here, he injected a very pointed sneer into his voice. “I should not wish to leave Hiroshi-sama alone in the presence of someone so keen to pick a fight, after all.” Then to me, he gave a look of apology mingled with reassurance.

I returned a nod and took a step back. As the guard followed Kimura through the gate and turned to pull it shut behind them, our eyes met again for a moment. This time, as I watched, he shuddered visibly with his hands upon the door. After pulling it to, there came a loud scraping as a bolt was pulled across the gate from the inside. I was left on the street alone. I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the painted wood of the door and fuming at the insolent guard. The nerve of him!

As I seethed, I paced a while in front of the wall, then contented myself to lean back against the bricks with my trunk beside me and the inspector’s parasol lowered down to my cheeks. It _still _vexed me. How could he just throw unfounded accusations in people’s faces like that? He’d actually called me a witch, and a whore at that!

But then… I remembered the terror I’d felt on looking at my reflection back on the Foam Moth. I had thought myself beautiful, it’s true, but I also observed that my eyes were unnatural. Inhuman, even. Could I really blame the guard for thinking I was something… other? Even I had seen a stranger’s eyes staring at me in the mirror.

These unpleasant ruminations were presently brought to an end by the sound of feet trotting briskly toward me from down the street. I dipped my parasol a little lower in front of my face in the vain hope that whoever this was coming would walk by without accosting me.

No such luck. A pair of sandals come into view beneath the dark pleats of a hakama, and the feet were pointed in my direction. “Hiroshi-oniisan?” asked a deep, gentle man’s voice.

That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I raised my parasol slightly and looked up at the man in front of me. Then I looked up a little higher. He was nearly a full head taller than me, with short, bristly black whiskers framing his mouth, cheeks, and chin. He was stockily built, but his light brown eyes were looking at me with an earnest gentleness that made me feel easy almost instantly.

‘_Oniisan_.’* He’d known I was a man. More importantly, he knew my first name.

Before I could reply, I saw his eyes light up. He flashed a boyish grin and exclaimed, “Holy shit! Hiro-nii, it’s really you! I can’t believe it!” I had enough time to notice that his left canine stuck out slightly higher than the rest of his teeth in a way that really tickled my memory, and then he pulled me into a tight bearhug.

On reflection, this was something of a faux pas, and one which could have ended quite badly. After all… for six years, I had known only one man’s embrace, and the memory brought me no comfort. But fortunately, this man’s hug bore almost no resemblance to Yasha’s gentle caress. This man squeezed me with incredible, unrestrained power, as if he thought either himself too weak or myself too strong for him to hurt me. My cheek scratched against his whiskery jaw, and the air was squished out of my lungs until I couldn’t move or speak, but I was too nonplussed to be afraid.

After a few seconds of wordless grunting while those big arms squeezed me, his arms finally loosened enough for me to take a breath and ask with sheepish honesty, “Do… I know you?”

That got an easy laugh out of him. He set me back on my feet and took a step back, rubbing the back of his head. “Right, right… I guess I look pretty different since last time you saw me. That would have been… what, six or seven years ago?”

So my last visit to Kyoto. It would about have to be. But though I tried to recall every face I’d met during my last visit, I still couldn’t place him.

“Let’s see,” the stranger continued, rubbing his stubble contemplatively. “Last time you saw me, I was… Ah! See if this helps.” He took another step back, stuck his tongue into the right side of his cheek so it bulged out, held a hand against his left eye as though applying pressure to it, then formed his face into a pained, sullen grimace.

The overall effect was so childish that my mind began to strip away the facial hair. I imagined what he would look like cleanshaven. Suddenly, I recognized him. “Kei-tan?” I gasped. Then I gave him a second view as he dropped the pose. “I mean… Keita-_san,_ I should say. You’re not so little anymore.”

He was grinning ear to ear, his broad chest rocking with deep laughter. “From you, Hiro-nii, just Kei is fine.”

“Right…” Laughter bubbled out of me as well. “Wow, I can hardly believe that’s you… It’s weird to hear you calling me oniisan. You’re a man now! You were like…” I held my hand about up to my chest, “that tall the last time I saw you, and you didn’t have so much as a scrap of fuzz on your cheeks. How can you have changed so much since then?”

His grin turned a little sly. “That’s not so unusual. I’m 20 years old now. It would be weirder if I _hadn’t _changed much since I was 14.”

“Twenty,” I breathe appreciatively. I gave him another look from head to toe, coming to grips with the change six years had worked on him, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing again. “Well, you’ve clearly been eating well all this time,” I said, holding my hand up level with his forehead. “What are you doing for work these days?”

Kei gestured to the estate behind me. “I work for Shiragawa-san. I’m a material mover in one of his warehouses. Great guy to work for, really. During the off-season, he pays me a quarter-salary even when there’s no work! Says it’s to make sure I don’t just switch to working in the mines year-round.”

I grinned as I listened to all this. The first time I met Keita, I’d had to pull him out of a fistfight with one of his friends, and he’d had a big black eye and a swollen bruise on his cheek. By the end of the day, though, he and that same friend had been grinning and playing games again like nothing ever happened. He was exactly the type to grow into a man who relished physical labor.

“So is that what brought you here just now?” I asked. “Need a word with the boss?”

Here, he faltered a little and started to rub the back of his neck. “Well… Not really. Today’s my day off, so…”

“Just chance?” I offered helpfully.

“No,” Keita said. “Actually… I was a few blocks over and saw your carriage passing by. I _thought _it was you, but I had to be sure. So I ran after it. Nearly lost you for a minute.”

Funnily enough, in the excitement at meeting an unexpected, familiar face, and the shock of seeing how much he’d grown, I’d almost completely forgotten about my own changed appearance. In fact, the feeling of bracing myself for the next blow had all but disappeared from the moment I recognized him. But now, this notion of being barely recognizable brought me back to my senses.

I averted my gaze shyly and felt something almost like shame as I saw the locks of black silk trailing down to my waist. “Right… I guess I’ve also changed quite a bit these last six years. I’m… kind of surprised you recognize me at all.”

In reply to this, Keita just shrugged nonchalantly. “Hiro-nii is Hiro-nii.”

ヒロ兄がヒロ兄。**

I looked up at him in surprise. His expression was almost placid as our eyes met. What does one say to something like that?

Unable think of a reply, I tried to change the subject. “So, I guess you must have-”

At the sound of grating wood off to my left, I cut my sentence short and turned toward the gate. The bolt had been thrown back, and now the door swung open. Shiragawa-san came charging out, looked up and down the street, saw me, and came running over. “Hiro-san!” he called. Kimura and the guard stepped out of the gate a moment later and turned to watch with shared anxiety.

I stepped away from the wall and squared my feet up to face my father’s old business partner. His beard had grown slightly longer and he’d added a few creases to his forehead, but otherwise he didn’t look bad. Shiragawa came to a stop barely two paces in front of me and started to study my face intently.

“Um…” I said self-consciously. “Hello… Shiragawa-san.”

Shiragawa didn’t acknowledge my greeting but just kept studying my face seriously. I noticed Keita edging discreetly aside to give us space. Then, just as I was wondering if I should say something else, the hard scrutiny faded from Shiragawa’s countenance. “Hiroshi,” he breathed in a raspy whisper. To my astonishment, a tear rolled from one of his eyes while he stared at me. “Sato no… Hiroshi…” He took a step forward, raising his hands as though to frame my face between them.

“Y-yes…” I said, stunned. I didn’t know what else to add.

As if in a trance, he stepped forward until he could reach out and touch my cheek with the tips of his fingers. Then, convinced that I wasn’t just an apparition, he took one last step and close his arms around my neck. “Hiroshi,” he said in a quavering voice.

This embrace was very different to the one Kei had given me. I was a little unsettled. He felt far too frail for a man his age. And while I was happy to see Shiragawa again too, wasn’t this reaction a bit much? He was shaking like a leaf as he held me, fighting to restrain his tears to just a few, trembling sobs. When he finally pulled away, cupping my face in his palms with his puffy red eyes staring at me and his nose a red blotch on an ashen pale face, I had no idea how to react.

Then, face screwing up in a scowl of outrage, he wheeled about on the guard who’d refused to let me enter and shouted, “Hanzo, you blockhead! Of _course _this is Yuki’s boy!” The guard flinched, then cowered as Shiragawa continued to reprimand him. “This is inexcusable! The last of the Sato’s of Umi no Mura stands at our gate, and you force him to wait out here on the street like some…” At this juncture, Shiragawa had begun to look about at the street in question. He did a double take at the sight of Keita, and then the anger faded from his face faster than it had appeared. “Oh… Good day, Inomata-san.”

Kei bowed with a casual smile, pretending not to have heard Shiragawa scolding his guard. “Good day, boss.”

Shiragawa took a few deep breaths, reeling in his composure. “This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you out here on your day off?”

Kei shifted to a comfortable stance. “Oh, I was just out today for a stroll, and…” His eyes flicked to me for only a moment, and I could have sworn I saw a light blush appear beneath his stubble. “I spotted an old friend and thought I would catch up for a moment.”

“Ahh,” Shiragawa exhaled, his eyes moving between the two of us. Then he put a smile on his lips, half looking over his shoulder at Hanzo. “Well then, it’s good to know he was in respectable company at least.”

Keita smiled and bowed deeply at the compliment. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Shiragawa-san.”

After an appropriate pause, Shiragawa cast a glance at me, and I saw the barest flash of some emotion he strained to hold back. “I hate to cut your conversation so short,” he addressed to Keita, then rested a hand on my shoulder, “but I need to take Sato with me for a while. There is a family matter for us to discuss.”

I looked askance at him. ‘A family matter’? True, certainly, but a bit of a curious phrasing.

The taller man smiled graciously. “Of course, Shiragawa-san. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bowed at the waist. “Goodbye for now… Sato-san.”

Seeing him give this salutation, I felt suddenly reluctant to leave things on this note. “I’ll see you again soon… Kei.”

With just a soft brush of his gaze across my face, Keita smiled and turned about. I gripped the handle of the inspector’s parasol a little tighter and watched his retreating back until I felt Shiragawa’s hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s go inside,” Shiragawa said, smiling warmly and leading me through the gate. I followed without resistance. Along the way, he gestured to Captain Kimura with a nod. “Come along, you too. I’ll want to hear your account of this as well.” To the guard, Hanzo, he gave a meaningful glare and pointed to my trunk. “Bring Hiroshi’s things over to the guest house.” The guard stiffened, but kept his face carefully expressionless while doing as bidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Japanese has no words for 'sir' or 'ma'am' the way we usually mean them in English. Instead, they tend to use familial terms to refer to people who aren't in their family - including perfect strangers. 'Oniisan' (big brother) is used to refer to someone the same age or slightly older. Keita then switches to "Hiro-nii" in all succeeding interactions because, having confirmed Hiroshi's identity, he has license to use a more casual form of address. 
> 
> ** Another of those eloquent tautologies I love so much. This one is a little easier to decipher, but it's still very meaningful. The simple statement "Hiro is Hiro" would ordinarily be interpreted as, "you're still you," or "You haven't changed as much as you think." The addition of the familiar honorific, "-nii" adds a more personal flavor to the message. Keita is also saying, "I would recognize you anywhere." 
> 
> No, you're not going crazy. I seriously DID add two more chapters to the denominator while nobody was looking. Why? Because for one thing, my written draft of Chapter 4 took up like... half of my notebook. I was only halfway through typing it when I realized it was 14 pages and decided to split it up. That means Chapter 5 should be out before you know it. 
> 
> Also, I realized that some of the dynamics I have in mind for the conclusion are going to require some... pacing and development. Things can never be as simple as I first intend v.v 
> 
> But yes! Things move apace. A lot of characters are getting added in this and the next chapter, so do let me know what you think of them! Once more, thank you all for supporting me through this journey. Your encouragement is really so helpful! 
> 
> For updates and cute things, follow my Twitter @IsuSeal


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These were so few words  
to describe six years of hate  
Yet they left me drained

Chapter 5

Shiragawa’s estate was beautifully appointed, full of flowers, and even had a koi pond with five gorgeous fish. Unlike my own family’s garden, the only vegetables to be found were in a small bed of wasabi, looked after with meticulous care. But at that particular time, I was blind to all of these details. My head kept flitting between my encounter with Keita and this meeting I was about to have with my father’s business partner. I feared that my sense of delicacy was sure to be rusty. Things had gone well enough with Keita, but…

Kei… He’d recognized me so easily. He never even mentioned how my appearance had changed. For that matter, he never said anything about my village. The destruction of Umi no Mura was evidently common knowledge – or at least it seemed so with the men in Shiragawa’s employ – but Kei hadn’t said a word about it. Maybe he didn’t know I was from Umi no Mura? Well, he must know now; Shiragawa had just said it.

“Incidentally, I’m sorry about the delay,” Shiragawa said, calling my attention to the present just as he was removing his sandals at the house’s entrance. “I was, ah… taking a nap when Kimura-san arrived, you see.”

“That’s alright,” I said, slipping out of my sandals and wiping the dust from my socks with the rag Shiragawa handed to me.

As we ventured into the house and I left my parasol at the door, another thought began to impress itself on me almost immediately. Kei was practically a stranger to me. Our entire relationship had been limited to the three days he served as my new friend and travel guide during my last trip to Kyoto. Now, he was so utterly transfigured since last we met, it was like meeting a person I’d never seen before. So where had that sense of instant familiarity come from? How…

A door slid open in front of us. A woman – Shiragawa’s wife – was sitting inside. The instant that our eyes locked, I saw her eyes flash with about half a dozen emotions from shock to fear to outrage.

“Karin-chan? What is it?” Shiragawa asked, sounding startled.

Shiragawa no Karin seemed to have some trouble pulling her gaze away from mine. When she finally did, she chose to focus it on the floor rather than on her husband. “I was just waiting for you to get back. Who is she?”

I tensed up. _This again. _

“_He _is Sato no Hiroshi, Yuki’s boy,” Shiragawa said tersely. “He was at our house just six years ago, you’ll recall?”

Karin’s eyes met mine again, searching and incredulous. “This one?” We each diverted our gazes. “The one whose village was found all burned up? The one who was presumed dead after a year without sign of him?”

“Yes, the one who many presumed dead,” Shiragawa said patiently.

Her lips formed a hard line and her fingers clenched. Then she met her husband’s gaze urgently. “Renji-kun, may I speak with you in private?”

He bridled a little. “I have two guests with me. Will this not wait?”

In reply, Karin fixed her husband with a smile so convincingly apologetic that it must have been practiced in front of a mirror and said, “I do _dearly _wish that it could.” For the barest moment, I saw her eyes flick in my direction without reaching me.

Shiragawa stood silent for a moment to weigh his options, then smiled with lips only. “I suppose it can’t be helped. Would it offend my guests if I took a moment aside with my wife?”

He wasn’t looking at us as he said this, so I didn’t realize that the question was non-rhetorical. Thankfully Kimura, already used to speaking on my behalf, swiftly answered for both of us: “By all means!” I clued in then and gave a little, affirmatory hum.

Shiragawa nodded, still with that forced smile, then said to Karin, “Wait for me in the back garden.” As she moved to exit the room, Shiragawa beckoned us inside, laid down a cushion for each of us to sit on, then called for a servant to prepare tea before excusing himself.

I scanned the room in my host’s absence. There was a low, dark wood table in front of us, an empty vase off to the left, and another three green cushions to the right beside a squat door that I took for a closet. From the fact that the cushions were _beside _rather than _in _the closet, I gathered that Shiragawa was accustomed to receiving guests in this room. It sent the message, ‘Please visit again! Bring a friend with you!’

A voice carried to me through the walls of the house. “What is this about, Karin-chan? I hope it’s important, to make Hiroshi wait on me twice in succession.”

“Renji-kun, you can’t tell me you don’t see it!” Karin hissed in a penetrating whisper. For a moment, I feared that my hearing was spiking again. When I glanced at Kimura, though, he met my eye and offered me an apologetic grimace. _He hears it too, then._

Shiragawa answered with surprising directness. “I see Yuki’s boy, the last of the Sato branch, alive and in one piece when I’d thought all hope was lost.”

“But how can that… _that _be Hiroshi? The eyes are just the start. It doesn’t look a thing like him!”

“It’s been _six years_, Karin-chan! People can change a lot in that time, and Hiroshi has been through a trauma.”

Karin could barely contain her frustration. “People’s eyes don’t turn unnatural colors from _trauma_. He’s so pale, and his hair is… My first though when you brought him in was that-”

“Karin!” Shiragawa growled.

She cut that thought short, but almost immediately picked up with a new tactic. “Alright, we’ll say it really _is _the Sato boy. Where has he been all this time? How has he survived for over half a decade with no home and no family? Why does he look the way he does now?”

“Well, I was _about _to ask him all that. Or did you think I’d invited him in to discuss politics?” Shiragawa replied scathingly.

“And I’m sure he has answers for you,” she carried on undeterred, “but whatever he might say, people are going to get their own ideas.” I heard a scoff from her husband, and then she cried slightly louder, “Don’t dismiss me, Renji! Listen! _Listen _to what I have to say!”

I heard no reply from Shiragawa, but he must have given her some signal to carry on. Karin began to speak in more measured, careful tones that nonetheless carried to where we were sitting. “Think about how it looks. Umi no Mura was burned to the ground in a mysterious fire that left no survivors, and no signs of bandits nor invaders. Then, after six years, one survivor shows up. When people hear that, they’ll be expecting a half-starved, half-mad vagabond in rags, aged prematurely through grief. Then they’ll learn that this ‘lone survivor’ is actually a healthy man with mystical eyes, beautiful hair, perfect skin, and not a sign of aging a day past 17 or 18. And now, he reappears thus and presents himself before one of the most successful businessmen in Kyoto? Some of them will almost surely wonder if the mysterious circumstances of the fire and his present, woman-like beauty are entirely a coincidence.”

I could hardly stomach what I was hearing. Unconsciously, I had pulled a thick lock of hair in front of me and started wringing it in my hands.

After a long pause, Shiragawa finally said, “And do _you _really believe that?” in a tone that was impossible to read.

There was another long pause before his wife answered. “I don’t know, Renji-kun… But I’m scared.”

“Would you rather that Hiroshi was really dead?”

“No!” she cried instantly. Karin seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, and then she continued speaking as though on the verge of tears. “I want him to be alive too, but if that _is _really the Sato boy, then something about him has changed – and I mean more than just his appearance. When I looked into his eyes, it wasn’t just the color that scared me. There was… something… in his gaze… I can’t describe it, but something in him is completely altered from the boy who visited our house six years ago to deliver prints from his father. It could really _be _Hiroshi, but it’s not the same Hiroshi. That’s what scares me.”

There was another long pause. It was hard to imagine what either of them looked like at that moment. Finally, Shiragawa asked, “So what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Karin huffed. There was a loud sniffling that must have been her.

“I’ve heard you,” Shiragawa started again, but now his tone was gentle and consoling. “I know this is all quite a shock… but think about this from Hiroshi’s perspective. We don’t know where he’s been all this time, but he’s lost his home and everyone he knew. That must have been difficult for him. Now, he’s come all the way to Kyoto because we’re the only family he has left.”

I remember feeling dizzy for just a moment on hearing those words. ‘_Only family he has…_’ I got a grip before my hope could carry me away. Surely he meant, ‘closest thing to family.’ It was an exaggeration – nothing more. I couldn’t let myself get overexcited over a little ambiguous word choice like that.

Meanwhile, Shiragawa carried on. “All I know is that the last of the Sato branch is here in my house, and we’re all he has. You may harbor doubts, but I’m certain that it’s the real Sato no Hiroshi. I know it is! I…” His voice wavered, choked with emotion. “I _feel _it in my heart. That’s Yuki’s boy, and I’m not about to send him away over the spurious claims of fools with nothing better to do than poke their noses where they don’t belong.”

“Even if it affects your business?” Karin said, but she’d dropped the argumentative tone from her question.

“That’s another matter,” Shiragawa said. He allowed for a thoughtful pause, then said, “You leave that to me. I’ll get some news of my own cycling around town, and we’ll see if people don’t wise up. And we can always hire a priest to give the boy a blessing. If a priest declares the boy to be spiritually clean, then even our more superstitious neighbors will have to mind their own business.”

Privately I thought to myself, _Yes, I could certainly use a good cleansing after… all of this._

Karin was silent for a moment, then sighed peaceably. “I think you’re right. That ought to help. Thank you, Renji-kun.”

“Now, I must go tend to my guests,” said Shiragawa. “Let’s just hope the wind has kept our voices covered.”

Kimura and I looked at each other at the exact same moment and decided, by unspoken agreement, to spare our hosts the embarrassment of knowing they’d been overheard.

Presently, Shiragawa returned and offered a meek apology for keeping us waiting. With remarkably good timing, the servant he’d asked to prepare tea announced their entry just as Shiragawa was taking his seat across from us. Perhaps the servant had been listening in on part of the conversation as well.

As she slipped past me, I held in a groan at the sight of the tray she was holding, laden as it was with a wooden box, a bamboo canister, four napkins (3 black and 1 red), a large, steaming kettle, and three clay bowls. The bowls and the size of the kettle told me what sort of tea we were about to enjoy: matcha. That meant that Shiragawa intended to take things slow and formal. My long wait to deliver my uncomfortable report was now being rewarded with even more waiting. I took some consolation from noting that at least we weren’t arranged for a full-on tea ceremony.

After delivering the tea set to her master and laying one black napkin in front of each member of the party, the servant girl retreated to a corner of the room and sat in meditative stillness with her eyes closed. Shiragawa then laid out the bowls one by one, opened the box of utensils, and began to fold the red, silk napkin used to purify each one. I closed my eyes and forced myself not to fidget. We might not be doing the entire ritual, but Shiragawa clearly intended to do things with ceremony.

Then, something unexpected happened. As I heard the gentle plip of water being poured into the first bowl, my jaw unclenched. As Shiragawa began whisking the powder through the water, my brow slowly unfurrowed. I opened my eyes and saw him staring into the bowl – the very image of focus and composure, his arm moving industriously with no sign of exertion.

Finally, he set the bowl before me, and I bowed in time with him without prompting. The aroma of green tea was like a benevolent ghost. With my first sip of tea, I found myself being moved in mind and spirit back through time to afternoons spent drinking tea with Auntie Junko. Yasha had only ever made brewed tea in the realm because getting all of the utensils for matcha and learning how to perform a tea ceremony would have been ‘too much work.’ Thus, there was something about the experience that felt truly clean and unsullied by those last six years.

“Too strong?” Shiragawa asked softly, wiping the scoop in preparation for the next serving.

A smile touched my lips. “It’s perfect.”

Shiragawa smiled, then offered a nod to the servant girl in the corner. Her eyes were still closed, I thought, but she perceived the nod somehow and bowed before quitting the room. She returned just as Kimura’s tea was ready and set a platter of small sweets in front of us. Shiragawa then got started preparing his own tea. He’d only just finished making it and taken the first sip when he saw that my bowl was empty and offered me a second, which I was unable to refuse.

At last, with me sipping at my second bowl of tea and the other two still holding their firsts, Shiragawa moved to the matter at hand. “Captain, I know that you have only just come into dock and that other matters require your attention. I hope you will forgive me for wanting to prolong your company a while, but now we’ll start with your part of the story first. Then you’ll be free to depart at your leisure and see me again tomorrow for business.”

Kimura considered all this, then lifted his bowl to his lips and drained its contents. Then he handed it back to his host with a bow. “My thanks, Shiragawa-san.” This formality completed, he sat silent for a while and collected his thoughts.

At length, Kimura began. “A week ago, as we were returning from Hokkaido on an otherwise clear night, a waterspout shot up less than a spear’s throw off the port bough. It rose up as high as an ash tree, raging in a fearsome spiral. I knew right away it was no natural waterspout. As well as the height, there was no strong wind blowing that could account for such a cyclone. Indeed, I had been on the verge of having my men break out the oars if we couldn’t get a better wind to push us along – until that waterspout appeared. Mubaku was just veering us to give the devil some clearance, but then the spout started to curve… It moved like a worm, leant toward the Foam Moth, then it upended itself onto the deck – not like a tower limply falling over, but like a snake breaching the water for air before diving below.

“Water began to funnel onto the deck for a terrifying instant, but then the spout simply… dissipated, like a bubble popping, and there was no more than one or two gallons of water spreading out before I knew what was what. Crouching there like a devil in the moonlight, there was… His Lordship, the demon Yasha. He was always wont to make a flashy entrance, flipping and leaping like a dolphin and making notches in our main mast with his spear before landing, but this was easily his most violent and fearsome arrival to date.

“Likewise, his usual sinister smirk, arrogant and entitled with just a trace of cruel-hearted reasonability, was nowhere to be seen. In one hand, he held a large, wooden trunk. In the other, a human in a pure white yukata was curled up asleep like a babe in his arm. Since both hands were full, the demon clenched the haft of his spear in his teeth, and his eyes blazed with such fury. It’s a wonder he didn’t snap the tool with his jaws.”

The captain continued to recount the event in this very detailed manner. When Kimura eventually got to the part where I woke up, Shiragawa began to glance at me on occasion while he listened. He was giving me the chance to offer corrections if necessary, but Kimura’s version was accurate on all main points, and I held my peace. At last, Captain Kimura reached the conflict with the guard, Hanzo, and Shiragawa was thus caught up to speed.

Shiragawa had only taken two gulps of his tea up till now, but at the conclusion of Kimura’s narrative, he finished off the bowl in one long draft. He set his bowl aside and wiped the rim with his napkin, then said to the captain, “I thank you most graciously for the risks and effort you’ve gone to, above and beyond the call of duty. Tomorrow, when we meet for regular business, I will have a special gift to offer you in thanks.”

Kimura bowed head and shoulders. “You honor me, Boss Shiragawa.”

“And before you and your men set out for your next voyage,” he added, “I will treat all of you to a special dinner in thanks for Sato’s safe return.”

The captain bowed to the ground, and Shiragawa bowed with him. “My sincerest thanks, on behalf of all my men. I will tell them all of your gratitude now.” After straightening up, he then turned on his knees and bowed to me. I instinctively imitated the gesture. “Farewell, Hiroshi-sama. I leave you now in good hands.”

“Farewell, captain…” Something felt off about this departure. Before he put his hand to the door, I turned and called out to him, “Shinnosuke!”

He stopped sharply at hearing his given name called out. “Yes?”

I gave him the warmest smile I could. “Please… You have done much for me, and I should like to think of you as a friend. We are now well out of sight of the coast. So please… won’t you call me ‘Hiroshi’ without honorific? Just once before you go?”

At this, Kimura no Shinnosuke blushed red as a cherry and avoided my gaze, yet an irresistible smile stretched at his lips. “Well… alright then. I s-s-suppose it can’t hurt…” It was strangely adorable to see a man as old as Kimura thus acting so flustered. He turned toward me once more, and this time merely inclined his head to me. “Till next time… Hiroshi…”

Those words filled me with a happiness akin to relief. “Till next time, Shinnosuke.”

Still blushing like a boy after his first kiss, Shinnosuke slipped out the door and gave one final bow before sliding it shut.

When I turned back to my father’s former business partner, Shiragawa was giving me a very intrigued smile. “Now I _know_ it’s you. You looked so much like your mother just then.”

Now it was my turn to blush, but I wasn’t quite as happy as Kimura had been. Those words called another important matter back to mind. “Shiragawa-san, can-”

He cut me off with a raised palm. “Please, you needn’t be so formal with me either. ‘Ojisan’ is just fine coming from you.”

I really had no idea what to think of the offer, so I decided acquiescence would be the simplest way forward. “Alright… ojisan… Could you please have somebody cut my hair for me?”

Shiragawa looked genuinely shocked by the request. “That beautiful hair? Why would you want to?”

I only realized that I’d been wringing a lock of my hair in my hands again when I saw Shiragawa staring at it. I forced myself to stop. When had I even picked up that habit? Had I started doing it when I was still Yasha’s captive? It was so hard to remember…

“Hiroshi?” I blinked and looked up at Shiragawa again. His face was lined with worry.

“It’s just…” I swallowed. “People keep mistaking me for a woman…”

“Oh!” Shiragawa ducked his head a little, abashed. “That wasn’t what I meant about you seeming like your mother just a minute ago. Hinata had that same grace and sensitivity with matters of the heart.”

“Oh…” It was hard not to feel warmed by the gesture. “Still, it hasn’t been just that… I look like a woman with this hair, and it’s too eye-catching. I think it would be best to get rid of it. My eyes will draw enough attention as it is.”

Shiragawa considered this for a moment. “I suppose… but on the other hand, perhaps not.” I fixed him with a puzzled frown, so he elaborated: “As you say, your appearance is rather eye-catching. I’m guessing more than a few people saw you at the docks and during your carriage ride over here? If I know Kyoto gossip, half the city is already enquiring after the face they saw passing through their city this morning. By this time tomorrow, everyone who didn’t get a chance to see you with their own eyes will be hoping to catch sight of you soon, and they may feel cheated if they don’t get that coveted glimpse.

“Then, when it’s learned that the beautiful ‘woman’ they saw is actually a man, and the last survivor of a village thought to be extinct, they may wonder what motivated you to change your appearance so quickly. And in their disappointment, their speculations may take on some uncharitable overtones.” Here, Shiragawa held out his hands, palms upward. “This is far from reasonable thinking, of course, but if reason and emotion never differed, we wouldn’t have invented separate words for them.”

I considered all of this silently. I disliked the notion of having to keep my hair long, but ojisan’s argument wasn’t without sense. He’d given every indication of having my best interest at heart so far. Furthermore, I could not discount the fact that Shiragawa had been a resident of this city all his life. _Moreover_, he was a merchant; it was part of his business to know how people at large thought and what would appeal to them.

“So,” I said resignedly, “I should just get used to the long hair?”

Shiragawa stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Well, it needn’t be forever if it really bothers you so much. Just for a while.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Hiroshi. I have contacts in every sector of Kyoto, and I’ll start networking some gossip of my own. Before the day is out, I’ll put out the word that the missing Sato lad has finally been found, and that he’s staying at his overjoyed ojisan’s residence. We’ll play up the length of your hair as a testament to the six years that you were lost, and…

“Well, we’ll think of something to explain the rest. That should satisfy, and even intrigue, the general public enough to win you some favor from them. After… perhaps two weeks, we can cut your hair and say that you’ve ‘come out of mourning.’ That is… _if _you still want to cut it by then. It really is a rare thing to have such fine hair.” He rubbed unselfconsciously at his bald patch, grinning sheepishly. “If being mistaken for a woman is the issue, that’s hardly insurmountable. You’re wearing a somewhat androgynous yukata at the moment, but with a more masculine outfit and some manly accoutrements, you’ll cut quite an imposing figure. Give me two weeks to spread the word around and try some different looks for you. We can always cut your hair later on if you’re still unhappy with it.”

It was a reasonable request, and no denying it. And two weeks would probably go by in no time. “Alright. You know the city best, ojisan. I’ll take your suggestion.”

I could tell by his smile that he knew how reluctantly I gave this submission. “Don’t worry, Hiroshi-boy. The time will go by before you know it, and we’ll take good care of you in the meantime.”

I smiled weakly and returned a nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you, ojisan.”

Shiragawa adjusted his seat to make himself more comfortable and called to the servant girl to clear away the remnants of our tea service. “Now,” he said with a deep, preparatory breath. “We come to it. If you’re able… I’d like to hear your account of what’s happened these last six years. And please – I know this is a sensitive topic. You needn’t go into detail about anything too painful. Just tell me how you arrived at home, what state Umi no Mura was in when you arrived, where you’ve been all this time, and… if possible, tell me how this…” he gestured vaguely to my appearance, “… change took place.”

This was it.

I took a deep breath and felt my chest shudder in anticipation. I’d been trying all day to think of how exactly to relate my tale to Shiragawa. Plenty of ideas had occurred to me, but they were vague at the time and had all dried up since. Still, I supposed that one detail was certainly pertinent above all else.

“It was Yasha,” I practically bit on the syllables as I pronounced them. Shiragawa’s eyes widened with surprise, but not shock. “Yasha burned down the village… and he slaughtered everyone in it. He’d already done it by the time I got home, and he was just… loitering around the island.” It became somewhat easier to speak as I went on, but an unpleasant, cold numbness was leeching down my limbs with each word. “He told me proudly of what he’d done. Then I ran the rest of the way to the village to see it for myself. There was nothing left. Nothing…” The next part was more difficult. My mouth went dry as paper.

“Yasha had… followed… to watch my reaction, and then…” I felt the urgent need to swallow, but my cheeks, tongue, and teeth all kept trying to stick together. “Yasha… he…” I stared at the floor and felt my whole body convulse as I drew in a breath. “He… spirited me away… to the Underworld…” I gripped my forearm with painful tightness. “… for his amusement.”

My stomach rolled and stretched in its confinement. Without telling any lies, I felt as though I was omitting so much as to be deceitful. I looked back up at Shiragawa from the corner of my eyes. His face had gone nearly as white as my own, and he wore the stock-still face of horrible epiphany. Apparently in all my vagary, I’d given him enough clues. After a few seconds, he realized I was looking at him and hastened to put on a neutral expression. He nodded encouragingly.

I looked away again before proceeding. “He kept me alive during all that time. Yet after six years, I… I wasn’t… giving him the entertainment he wanted anymore.” I stopped and clamped a hand over my mouth as soon as I’d finished spitting the last few words out. Then I just sat there for a minute, one hand over my mouth and the other over my belly while I put down the urge to vomit. Once I’d recovered enough equilibrium, I straightened up and met Shiragawa’s waiting look. “That’s when he decided to bring me back, I guess…”

These were so few words… to describe six years of hate… Yet they left me drained. 

We were both silent for a long, long time. Then it was Shiragawa who first ventured to speak. “I guess even he wasn’t wholly immune to sentiment in the end.”

That threw me. “What?”

Shiragawa shrugged awkwardly. “I… wouldn’t have expected him to bring you back at all… not after everything else he’s done. But I’m glad he did.”

“Oh…” I hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to that. Eventually, a more important detail came to mind. “My family,” I said guiltily. “I never got the chance to bury them…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Shiragawa said easily. “As soon as I learned about the fire, I launched an expedition to the island and went in person with a priest. Rites were performed for the village as a whole, a memorial was raised near the site of your family’s old house. I saw to it personally that your family’s bones were buried and given proper ceremony.”

I looked up at him, gaping. His tone and expression were both so sure and mild. He didn’t seem like somebody trying to flaunt their wealth through extravagant charity, and yet… “Shiragawa-san,” I said, forgetting to be familiar. “Why… why go to all of that trouble just for us?”

Shiragawa appeared genuinely shocked, and not a little offended by the question. At length he said with the barest hint of reproach, “Is that not what family does for one another?”

There it was again. I was driven speechless with vertigo, swaying a little in my seat and staring at Shiragawa through suddenly hazy vision. He watched my reaction, the lines on his forehead furrowing deeper and deeper until suddenly his eyes opened wide. “Wait… You _knew_, didn’t you? Do you not know?”

In spite of my befuddlement, I had enough sense to see what the thing I didn’t know had to be, even if I couldn’t believe it. I shook my head.

“But… surely Yuki told you… the story of Sachiko and Chihiro?” He peered at me searchingly. 

Those names _did _ring a bell somewhere in my memory. An impression presented itself. “The… the twins?”

He brightened at once. “You remember now?”

I puzzled for a moment, then scratched at my scalp. “Not… very clearly. I think I was around ten when Dad told us the story. That was a long time ago, and… my memory hasn’t been as good as it used to be… since…”

“Ahh,” Shiragawa sighed, nodding. “That makes sense. Yes, that’s quite understandable.” He smiled and resettled himself more comfortably. “Well then, I suppose I had better tell you the story afresh. You see, Hiroshi, my great grandmother and your great, _great _grandfather were brother and sister – fraternal twins, in fact. And that makes me your…” He paused for a moment and did some tallying on his fingers. “Your… third cousin, once removed.”

I boggled at the revelation. A number of pieces started sliding into place. ‘Ojisan.’ _Uncle. _Now it made sense. “Then… our family’s business partnership…”

He nodded, smiling. “Yes, it was more than just business. But let me start from the beginning:

“As the tale has been passed down, Chihiro and Sachiko were fraternal twins. They looked nothing alike, so it’s said, and yet they were inseparable. Now, Umi no Mura was a younger village in those days, and the Sato family of that region was comprised mainly of fishermen and farmers. Sato no Chihiro therefor, though his sister pleaded against it, set out one day to join the governor’s regiment.

“His term was set for 2 years, and Sato no Sachiko prayed fervently for his safe return. Her greatest anxiety came from news of a skirmish between the forces of their governor and his rival, but at the appointed time, Chihiro returned from his service safe and alive. His only injury came from a spear which, thrust at the full extent of its wielder’s reach, sliced one of Chihiro’s eyebrows clean off and made the tiniest scratch in the skull beneath. That eyebrow never grew back, giving him a constantly dubious expression.

“Accompanying him was the soldier who’d protected him while he was still blinded by the blood streaming from his wound. He hailed from Kyoto, and his name was Shiragawa no Takano. Takano was, so it’s said, a strikingly handsome figure. That, coupled with being Chihiro’s savior, endeared him instantly to Sachiko’s heart. In the one week that he stayed in Umi no Mura, he and Sachiko fell in love, and it was deemed suitable by all the family that they should marry, even though it meant Sachiko would depart for the capital.

“Chihiro was not entirely happy, but the loyal Takano promised to help Sachiko write letters that the village priest could then read to him. Umi no Mura’s priest was, at that time, the only lettered man in the village. This solution sufficed, but neither sibling was fully satisfied. Soon after settling into her new home in Kyoto, Sachiko requested lessons to be able to read and write on her own. With his commission, Takano was able to hire a tutor, and after two years, she could draft a letter on almost any subject unassisted. Then she helped her brother to hire a teacher out in Umi no Mura where the fee was substantially higher, and Chihiro made sure to learn the art of writing as thoroughly as possible.

“Thus, though the Sato twins had been separated by marriage and distance, their hearts remained close through the constant exchange of letters. They wrote at least one letter every week, and they had to resort to sending them in bundles of half-dozen letters once a month to save on the cost of couriers. It’s thought that this dilemma was what finally inspired Takano to start his own shipping business.

“The Shiragawa family was then, and largely still is – very skilled in porcelain making, and Takano’s family was very happy to help him get his business of the ground if it meant their porcelain could reach a wider market and have their own distributor within the family.

“Chihiro and Sachiko both dearly prized the knowledge that had kept them close, and they passed on both their literacy and the tradition of letter-writing so that their family would never drift apart.

One day, your grandfather, Chihiro’s grandson, joined up with a ship bound for China on one of Takano’s earlier long-distance voyages. There, he acquired a press for the making of woodblock prints and wrote a very detailed scroll for instructions in its use. Back in Umi no Mura, the usefulness of the contraption was quickly appreciated. With this device, text could be produced as efficiently as textiles. He envisioned a Japan in which more than half of people in even the poorest villages could enrich their lives with the words of great scholars, and send heartfelt messages to their loved ones even across time and space.

“My grandfather, who had then come to own the business Takano started, saw the value of this vision – especially when he learned that the press could also be used to copy works of art on mass. Since then, the two branches of our family have worked together to popularize works copied by the woodblock press, and we’ve kept up the tradition of sending monthly letters between the heads of the family.

“That is the legacy of our family. As you now see, I am distantly a Sato myself. But… you are the last from the main stem – the last of Chihiro’s descendants.” As his tale concluded, ojisan gave me a tender smile. “And I’m… so relieved to see you safe and whole. I don’t know how often your father told you this, but Yuki often wrote in his letters of your intensity and the iron concentration with which you copied each piece. He said that you had a thirst for learning above all your siblings. He was so proud when he wrote to tell me your first trip to Kyoto on your own. I… wish I could tell Yuki what a fine young man you’ve become. I know he would be relieved to see that you’re safe and among family again.”

The whole story was surreal, and I’d listened to it with rap attention up till now. It was only at this last detail – the notion that my father would be _proud _of me – that I baulked. A few tears slipped passed my defenses, but the sight of mist in Shiragawa’s own eyes helped to ease the shame somewhat.

“Truly,” Shiragawa said, somewhat choked with emotion. “I am so happy to see you again. I want you to know, Hiroshi, that you have a place with us.”

I didn’t entirely trust myself to speak, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze either. So I muttered a simple, “thank you,” and rubbed my eyes against the back of my sleeve.

“Right!” Shiragawa – or cousin Renji, rather – took a quick breath and slapped his palms against his knees. “That’s enough of this maudlin atmosphere. A lost family member has been found! This calls for a celebration!” He clapped his hands and called out, “Tanaka!”

At once, the door slid open to admit the servant girl from earlier. Shiragawa addressed her, “A bottle of my finest sake!” She bowed, then wordlessly shut the door.

Shiragawa was flashing me a surprisingly boyish smile when I looked back to him. “You can stay with us as long as you need,” he said, jumping right to the point. “I don’t know if you saw it on your way in, but out back we have a small guest house with its own bath!”

“That’s convenient,” I said interestedly.

Shiragawa nodded and carried on as if he’d merely been awaiting my permission to continue. “You’ll be welcome to eat your meals with us, naturally. But if you should happen to sleep in, your breakfast will be brought out to you.”

“Thank you,” I nodded.

“Tanaka goes shopping for us twice a week, so be sure to let her know if you need anything to be more comfortable. Also, we’ll have to plan a celebration for your safe return later this week. That should give us a chance to have you connect with some of the city’s finest. You’ll want to make a good impression. I also know a few skilled sushi chefs who would be happy to cater the event.”

By this point, I was just nodding along with a smile hanging on my face like a mask. I didn’t know how to react to this barrage of hospitality. Even leaving aside my long estrangement from the rhythms of polite conversation, I was still trying to wrap my head around so many new revelations that it was hard to stay in the present. It was barely past noon, and already I felt eager to fall into bed.

Presently, Tanaka returned with the bottle Shiragawa requested and two white sake cups. _Tanaka to the rescue, _I thought, which was perhaps a bit uncharitable.

Shiragawa broke off at last as he uncapped the bottle and filled both cups, grinning with relish.

A few memories tried to push themselves forward as ojisan and I each picked up our cups, but he kept my attention by lifting his cup for a toast. “I thank the gods for your safe return. Here’s to your homecoming, Hiroshi. Kampai!”

“Kampai…” We tapped our cups together, then drank. As ojisan had hinted, it was high quality sake. In my mouth, it had only the barest discernable taste. Then I swallowed, and my tongue was left coated in the sweet taste of…

Yasha’s lips…

I don’t remember turning around or scrabbling to my feet. I don’t remember throwing the door aside and fleeing into the hall while Shiragawa called after me. I just remember tasting Yasha’s tongue in my mouth on the night we’d drank together, and a feeling of heat and weight like from his hands pressing down on my thighs. Then I was in the hallway, dashing blindly through the house in search of an exit, pressing my hand against my mouth while my stomach thrashed its way up my throat.

Somehow, I wound up in the rear courtyard. That turned out to be as far as I could go. I fell to my knees at the edge of the wooden deck and vomited onto the grass. A little of it hit the edge of the deck before I leaned further forward and heaved again. It was thin and dark green from the matcha. Inside my head, ghostly visions of that amorous night of drinking with my husband tormented me. I remembered his voice. I remembered the heat of his body as he held me. I fancied I could almost feel his hands on my skin, and I cringed before hurling yet again over the grass.

Some way into my third heave, I heard ojisan and Tanaka running up behind me. “Hiroshi!” Shiragawa dropped to his knees beside me and started rubbing my back.

My skin crawled at the pressure. “Stop!” I groaned, tongue curling back at the taste of bile. “D-don’t touch me!” Then I leant forward and heaved again. Shiragawa understood and removed his hand, but he stayed at my side.

“Master Shiragawa!” Tanaka quaked. It was the first time I’d heard her speak. “The sake was stored properly and was never tampered with! I’d stake my reputation on it!”

“I know that!” Shiragawa snapped. Then he reigned his temper in. “I know. I drank the sake when he did. It’s not your fault.”

My belly ached from the strength of my last heave. I knelt, gasping for breath. Off to my left, I heard a door slide open and Karin’s voice came out. “Renji-kun, what’s… what’s the matter?”

“Hiroshi is sick” Shiragawa announced. Then urgently he added, “A doctor! Karin-chan, can you go fetch a doctor? Quickly!” There came no reply but for the door sliding hastily shut. Then Shiragawa made a gesture to his servant. “Tanaka-san, go make sure the guest house is clean – you know how Haruko is always using it as her personal library. Then start filling the tub.”

“Right away!” She bowed hurriedly, then dashed off.

Shiragawa knelt beside me, keeping a respectful separation between us and speaking now in a soft whisper. “Hiroshi… are you alright?”

The ghost sensations were starting to numb and fade, but they were still there. “I…” A chill spread through my whole body, and I leant forward to expel one last, weak mouthful of sick. I hoped that would be the last of it, but the visions continued to torment me. “Ojisan…” I groaned, spitting out the bitter aftertaste. “It… it was…” I stopped as my stomach gave another lurch, but nothing else came up. “… that… that _demon_,” I gasped. Tears coursed down my face, but I didn’t want to touch my face to dry them. “He.. Yasha… did this to me…” I looked up into Renji-ojisan’s brown, sympathetic eyes. Trembling, I touched a lock of my long, black hair. “That demon… made me like this…”

The words were like a weight on my neck, forcing me to look down and break eye contact. “I’m… I’m ashamed… ojisan… I’m so ashamed… I don’t know who I am anymore.” A few sobs were wrenched from me. What right did I think I had to impose myself on the Shiragawa’s like this?

Then I felt ojisan grip my shoulders. His meaty hands were so different from Yasha’s possessive grabbing that I didn’t feel the urge to pull away. He lifted my head up to look into my eyes. I was reminded of my father by that serious, paternal mixture of chiding and unconditional love. “You are Sato no Hiroshi. You’re family. No matter what that monster has done to you, nothing will change that.”

Then, filthy and vomit stained though I was, he pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. In an instant, I broke down. I went slack in his arms and began loudly wailing, limply hugging his waist. He rocked me gently back and forth in his arms like I was only eight years old until the doctor arrived.

After that, everything went by like in a dream. I know somebody must have cleaned me up and helped me out of my dirty clothes, but I don’t remember who. I don’t remember who helped me into nor out of the bath, nor who helped me into my bed clothes, nor into bed. It was just a drowsy haze of caring hands and a soothing voice. Then I was enveloped in the softest, coziest blankets imaginable, and my mind slipped into warm darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly, what a twist.  
"Hiroshi... I AM your third cousin once removed on your father's side." 
> 
> Yeah, that's... There's a lot I like about this chapter, but also a lot that makes me really nervous. It's veeeeery dialogue-heavy, I know. Plus all these characters keep getting introduced left and right, and I'm just hoping that they're fairly distinct. 
> 
> Anyhow. I could have had this chapter posted sooner, and for that I apologize, but know that it's only because I've been really cracking down on my drafting. I'm actually nearly two chapters ahead at this point, and I should have rest of Book III tidied up by the time Chapter 6 rolls out! :D 
> 
> Love you all! Please comment and ask me any questions you may have! See you next week!
> 
> Edit: ............... Okay, so... TWO lies I told there.   
One: It's been nearly two weeks and chapter 6 still isn't out.   
Two: There's suddenly 10 chapters in Book III. Wtf, right? Yeeeeeah, sorry ^^; The floor just kept lengthening under my feet. But don't worry! Don't fret, because I have good news! All the chapters, all the way up to chapter 10, are now drafted! It's finished! So all I have to do now is type 'em up and edit them, and I can hopefully get them stamped out on an actual weekly basis! Thank merciful heaven! 
> 
> So fear not, my darlings! The <strike>lies</strike> story will continue in no time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiragawa-ojisan even organized a homecoming party. I had been dreading it all week.

My dream was as sort of synthesis of new events and past realities. It took place on the streets of Kyoto, but Yasha was there. In this chimerical reality, the demon had never set me free, I had never been reunited with my family, and I was still his prisoner. However, in this dream, Yasha decided to take the medicine seller’s old advice about getting me some sunshine and exercise – a risk which he had adamantly refused to take in reality – and brought me to Kyoto on an outing.

Yasha had me wear my most effeminate yukata; a yellow one with stylized fish printed in light brown near the cuffs and lower hem. He himself wore a charcoal-colored kimono that suited him quite handsomely, but which he’d always rejected before on the basis that it was ‘too boring.’ My assurances that it flattered him seemed to improve his mood substantially. He had also managed to ‘hide’ his horns (I don’t know how and it’s not important) so that we could blend in better among the other citizens of the capital.

It was almost a pleasant trip. Of course, everybody who saw us thought that I was a woman and Yasha my husband, but since he never tried to rub it in, this was tolerable. In fact… it was a little fun. I was tired and frequently required rest, but Yasha was willing to indulge me. We sat down in a quaint tea house and passed the time making conversation, we sat at an udon shop and slurped high quality noodles and broth full of quail eggs and other delicacies, and we even sat down for a while in a public garden much larger and more extravagant than the one that actually exists in Kyoto. Here, Yasha picked a ripe peach from a tree, and we ate it together. I felt so embarrassed biting from the same fruit as him right where people could see – especially when he used the inside of his sleeve to wipe peach juice from my lips. Still, at least he was refraining from his usual lecherous banter.

Later, we took a stroll down the central market district. Attractive people that we were, lots of merchants were eager to catch our attention. It was some time in the course of our shopping that I noticed something off about Yasha. Every now and then while I was examining the goods at a particular stall or listening to a merchant hail an enticing offer, I would feel a hot prickle on the back of my neck and glance at my husband. For just a fraction of a second, I would swear that I saw a grim cloud over his face, but by the time I got a full look at him, his expression was kind and caring again, and he would offer to buy whatever I wanted from the stand.

The one time I accepted this offer, it was for a stick of fresh dango from a street vendor. For some reason, I thought I saw the demon’s eyes flash with lightning for an instant just before he pulled out the needed money and bought the sweet. Then he quickly led me away while the vendor was still calling out his thanks, and Yasha didn’t seem to slow down or relax until we were well out of earshot. Once we did slow down, though, the foul mood seemed to disappear completely. When I offered to share the dango with him, Yasha was as happy as could be, and he snuggled me close to his side to bite a dumpling off the stick like some flirtatious date at a festival.

Eventually, we would up at a jewelry stall where a kind lady in her late thirties seemed determined to find an ornament among her wares that ‘suited me perfectly.’ As we lingered here, I soon felt that hot prickle on the back of my neck again. I tried to ease my husband’s anxiety a little by suggesting that there might be something here to suit his fancy as well. Yasha only smiled and shook his head wordlessly.

Presently, the jewelry merchant announced that she had found just the perfect piece for me. She presented a stunning pendant made of onyx, wrought in the shape of a dragon coiled around a piece of white jade. A more lovely necklace could scarcely be devised. The merchant bid me to lean over the counter, and then she reached over, clasped the necklace around my neck, arranged my hair behind my shoulders to show it off, and smiled while declaring it to be perfect.

Suddenly, Yasha was leaning over me from behind. He gave a curt word of thanks, dropped a purse containing easily nine times the necklace’s value on the counter, then took hold of my bicep and began to lead me briskly away before the woman even had time to count out his money. Struggling to keep up, I looked and saw naked rage boiling on his countenance.

“Yasha,” I pleaded softly. Heads kept turning to stare at us, and I could only imagine what they must think. I kept calling my husband’s name, but he wouldn’t look at me.

At last, he dragged me down a deserted alleyway and pinned me against the wall to confront me. “Hiro-chan,” he growled, looming over me and seething with annoyance. “You really are the worst. Why do you keep treating me like this?”

I was equal parts shocked and frightened. “What?” I spluttered.

“Don’t play dumb!” he barked. “All those people… People have been looking at you all day, and you act like you don’t even care. You smiled back at every one of those shop keepers and laughed along to their stupid banter like I wasn’t even here!”

So that’s what this was about? “Yasha-kun, I… I didn’t think any of them were giving me any unusual looks… I don’t think any of them meant-”

“That’s even worse!” Yasha snapped, slamming his palm against the wall to silence me. “You’re saying that you’re not paying attention… no, that you don’t even _care _about how all those people look at you. Are you seriously so oblivious? Fucking hell, Hiro-chan, that jeweler lady was _pawing _at you, and you just… _let her_!”

His teeth were bared, and I found myself trembling as I tried to shrink back from him. I hated this jealousy of his. It was like Yasha felt threatened by my happiness if it came from any source but him. “I’m sorry, Yasha-kun,” I said, just trying to placate him and get off the hook. “I didn’t mean to endear myself to anyone else. You’re the only man I want, my husband.” I put my hands on his chest in supplication. “Please, Yasha-kun, forgive me. I swear, I wasn’t even thinking of anyone else.”

He glared at me pitilessly for a moment, and then a menacing smirk began to tug at the corner of his lips. “Okay then. Prove it.” With that, he opened his kimono and undid the string securing his hakama. It slid down, and his tremendous girth flopped out to smear pre against the sash of my yukata.

“Yasha-kun,” I gasped, looking at the mouth of the alley where crowds of people were still walking by. “We can’t do this here!” I whispered urgently. “It’s broad daylight! People will see us!”

His cruel grin stretched even wider. “I thought Hiro-chan didn’t spare a thought for what other people thought or saw.” His hand came to rest on my shoulder, and he forced me to my knees right there in the dirty alleyway. His warm, heavy dick started to rub against my face and neck. “Come on, Hiro-chan, think of your dear Husband. I brought you all the way here, treated you to delicious food, bought you lovely clothes, and endured all the lascivious stares these lowly commoners have been giving you all day. Don’t you think I’m entitled to a little compensation?” He held me by the hair to keep me still while rubbing the head of his penis against my lips and the tip of my nose. “C’mon, Hiro-chan, show your husband some appreciation. Give this dick a big ol’ kiss.”

I looked at the mouth of the alley again, terrified that somebody would look down and spot us any moment. “Yasha-kun, please… someone will see…”

Yasha just tapped his cock against my forehead to smear it with sticky pre. “Then you better stop wasting time, ’cos we’re not leaving until I get off.”

Shivering with humiliation, I shut my eyes, opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue. Presently, I felt the demon’s member rubbing up and down the length of my tongue. In my dream, his flesh had a curiously sweet flavor. Then, he took hold of my skull and pushed the whole thing in at once. Unlike in reality, his member was flexible enough to bend and let him shove it all in at once. Then I was trapped with my back against the wall and Yasha’s abs in my face. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t seem able to gag either.

“Whoa! Aniki, come look at this!” In terror, I strained to look at the mouth of the alley again. A trio of men were standing there, looking right at us with lusty grins.

I looked beseechingly at Yasha, but his eyes glittered with cruelty. “What? You want something?” Then he started fucking my throat while the men watched and clapped with amusement.

“Damn, that’s one lucky guy!” one of them said. “Can’t believe he found himself a girl slutty enough to take a monster-dick like that.”

“For real!” another replied. “And what a man, just fucking her skull like that! I’d say I want a go after him, but I think that girl’s gonna be broken past use by the time he’s finished.” At this, Yasha’s teeth glinted with especial satisfaction.

Leaning closer so only I could hear, the demon whispered, “See? They get it. Bet it doesn’t feel so good to have other men’s attention _now_, does it?”

Now, more men were gathering, hooting, catcalling, and enjoying the spectacle. Some of them even shouted encouragement to Yasha along the lines of, “Fuck that bitch! Show her who’s boss!” After a while, some women and some couples began to wander in to see what all the commotion was about, and even they stopped to watch as the demon had his way with me.

For a moment of terrible relief, I felt Yasha’s urethra bulge against my tongue, and he began to shoot his load down my gullet. I thought this would finally be the end of it. But then, after only his third shot, Yasha pulled his long dick out of my throat. It kept twitching and spurting thick pints of hot seed onto my face and body amid the exuberant cheers of the crowd.

Yasha didn’t waste too much time bathing me in cum. He quickly pulled my yukata open, dragged me onto my back in the middle of the alley, and shoved his still-twitching dick into my ass. My groans were drown out by the hoots and praise of men as he started fucking me, pulling me close while my belly filled with seed.

The voices of a few women cut through the din and reached me while I hid my face in Yasha’s chest. “I would _never _let my husband do something like that to me in public.”

Another answered, “I would never let my husband treat me as degradingly as _that _even behind closed doors.”

“What a wretched little skank. Some women just have _no _self-respect.”

I opened my eyes again and looked fearfully at the crowd. Somehow, the demographic had shifted. The alley was almost entirely filled with women. They looked down at me and shook their heads in disgust. I closed my eyes again and tried to hide my face against Yasha’s chest, clinging to him for protection even while he raped me in front of the crowd.

“What a whore!”

“Why does she let her husband treat her like that?”

“Can you believe such a desperate little harlot exists?”

“She just doesn’t care what happens to her.”

“Look at her clinging to her husband! Disgusting.”

“That slut’s going to let her husband impregnate her right here with us all watching. Can you believe that?”

“Poor man, having to put up with such a gross little-”

I opened my eyes to find myself lying face-down upon a futon, my body held in a film of cold sweat, face bathed in tears. I gripped the sheets beneath me, shivering, heaving frightened breaths. In the three days since I arrived at the Shiragawa estate, this was the second time Yasha had haunted my dreams, and this was the worst nightmare by far.

Fearfully, I rolled onto my back, lifted up the blanket, and looked down. A sigh of relief passed my lips. I hadn’t ejaculated. At least I was spared that shame.

I stiffened at the sound of approaching footsteps, then jumped skittishly at a knock on the door of the guest house. “Sato-san. Are you awake?”

I was slightly relieved, but not enough for my heart to slow down. “Yes, Tanaka-san. Good morning.”

“The family has finished breakfast already. Shall I leave yours here?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tanaka-san.”

I heard the door slide open. A partition had been erected in front of the door, so Tanaka could set the tray inside and not have to intrude on my privacy. Then the door close again and I was left inside, alone.

I waited until I was sure she had gone before flopping back on the futon with a weighty sigh and rubbing my palms across my face. My eyes stared at the wooden beams of the unfamiliar ceiling. It was bright out, and within the hour the heat would make it unbearable to stay in bed.

As I had the morning before, I looked at the ceiling for a long minute, then mumbled, “What now?”

*****

Shiragawa-ojisan made good on his assurance that he would spread the correct… or rather, _a corrected _version of the story around Kyoto, and even organized a homecoming party by the following Saturday. I had been dreading it all week.

In the first place, I felt embarrassed to see so much money being expended for my sake alone. Especially since I represented an irrecoverable deficit in the Shiragawa fortune; ojisan had been the one to pay for all of the expensive ink, paper, and other materials my family had used in our printing. When Umi no Mura was destroyed, a significant investment on the part of the Shiragawa corporation burned along with it.

But ojisan refused to listen to such talk. He said that out of our final delivery of prints, all but six had sold, which minimized the loss. These last six were now part of his private collection, and two of them would be displayed at the party as relics of the Sato legacy. I tried to point out that winter was not far off, and so it might be better to wait for a time when he could expect business to be steadier. To this, ojisan laughed and seemed almost delighted to tell me just how good business had been for him.

His well-rehearsed comment ran: “The fire in Umi no Mura was the only ill news I received that year.” The fourth year following the fire, in which he lost two ships wholesale to storms, had been his only bad year. All else had gone well. The warehouse where Keita worked had merely been rented at the time of my last visit, and he’d had to share it with another merchant. Now, Shiragawa owned the deed, and a second warehouse was under construction.

Thus, there was no way out of letting him throw this party for me. It was late afternoon, and I was in the guesthouse getting dressed as slowly as I could get away with. The sound of organizers hanging lamps all around the yard filled me with anxiety. I’d hardly left the grounds all week, which seemed like a tragic waste of my newfound freedom, but my experience at the dock had given me a terrible fear of strangers. Perhaps ojisan’s social maneuvering had improved my image somewhat, but I hadn’t gotten any_ less _freakish since we landed.

As I pulled the sash of my kimono tight and tucked the ends out of sight, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit me. I had put on the white and blue, lordly kimono that Yasha had once found so appealing that he… But I hadn’t mentioned any of that to ojisan. All I told him was that it would fetch a good price, that I didn’t feel it was well-suited to me, and that I wanted to sell it.

‘Shocked’ would be an understatement; Ojisan was mortified by the mere suggestion of pawning off the kimono, and Karin had been wholeheartedly on his side. He begged me to keep it, and – unwilling to explain my antipathy toward the garment, I finally relented. I knew he would be disappointed if I presented myself at the party wearing anything else. So I swallowed my distaste and put it on.

As I took a few cleansing breaths and braced myself for the coming trial, a knock sounded at the door. “Hiroshi, are you there?” It was a young, female voice.

“Yes,” I called back. “Tanaka-san? Do you need something?”

“It’s not Tanaka,” she answered. “This is Haruko. May I come in?”

Haruko… Ojisan’s daughter. We hadn’t seen much of each other except at meal times, so I didn’t recognize her voice. It made sense, though; Tanaka wouldn’t have neglected my honorific like that.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Okay, I’m coming in!” The door slid open, then closed, and Haruko around the partition. Shiragawa no Haruko was a pretty woman about the same age as me. She was dressed in a lovely, silvery yukata with some kind of small, shrub-borne flower printed across the fold. A white ribbon was draped across her back and arms. Her black hair was pulled back, folded into three loops layered one atop the other, and held up with a red ribbon tied in a bow. Her wide, honest eyes were the palest shade of brown I’d ever seen. Altogether, she had something of a classical Chinese aspect.

The placid smile she’d been wearing when she walked in held for a moment while she took in my appearance, then creased as her eyes reached my face. “Are you not going to do anything with your hair?”

I blinked. That was an awfully direct way to start a conversation. I swallowed and offered a sheepish little smile. “Well, I _wanted _to cut most of it off, but ojisan… your father convinced me to let it be. I’m not really sure what else to do with it.”

“I see…” She chewed her lip, staring at me.

After an awkward pause, I took a cue and asked, “Do you think I _should _do something with it?”

She shrugged in that precise way people do when they’re eager to say ‘yes,’ but don’t want to seem rude. “I understand that this party is to disperse the rumors about you? To show that you’re just an ordinary human being? And a man as well?”

A foolish, embarrassed smile stretched my lips wide. I would only have made myself look insane by trying to resist. “That’s… about the gist of it. Is my hair a problem, then?”

Haruko tilted her head back and forth. “It could be… I mean, wearing it down like this looks good, but it’s a very… androgynous look. And it gives you this sort of… ‘otherworldly’ feel. It’s a bit storybook, if you see what I mean.”

“Oh…” I tilted my head to let a thick lock of hair trail in front of me and ran my fingers through the silky strands contemplatively. ‘Otherworldly,’ eh?

“Don’t you think so?” She started to take another step, but stopped and stared at the wall behind me. “Hang on… What happened to the mirror that used to be here?”

“I asked Tanaka-san to remove it,” I said a little guiltily. Haruko gave a baffled look, so I elaborated, “I don’t like to look at myself.”

Her brows knitted together even tighter for the barest second, then relaxed. Her whole face went blank, lips forming a silent ‘oh.’ I cast my gaze aside shamefully. A few seconds passed, then she asked in a gentler tone, “Would you like some help getting ready?”

I looked up again and saw an open, sympathetic smile on her face. “Do… you think I need it?” I asked, noticing only after I’d started speaking that I was wringing my hair in my hands again.

“I think you’ll have more success tonight if I do,” she answered.

I looked off into space, gripping my hair even tighter and trying to keep my stupid smirk from turning into a stupid grin. “Alright… thank you.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back,” she said, edging toward the door. “Don’t go anywhere, Hiroshi-kun!”

Once her footsteps were out of earshot, I let a few of my manic giggles slip out. I liked this Haruko. So far, we’d only really seen each other at meal times, and neither of us were very talkative then. I don’t think we’d ever even met on either of my previous two trips to Kyoto.

Still, I’d found her interesting from the start. Without making an effort to draw attention to herself, she carried a certain presence about her. Something in the way she sat, stood, and moved suggested an unwavering self-confidence. She, clearly, would have nothing to do with this new wave of Confucian philosophy that held it virtuous for women to blend into the background. I had a feeling she would have gotten along well with my mother.

Presently, Haruko announced her return and strode in with a large wooden box under one arm and a silk bag held up by a drawstring. “Have a seat,” she offered, then sat herself down to my left. From the bag, she produced a large comb and started running it through my hair.

At first, I was reminded of Yasha spending hours on end grooming me to his liking. But the differences were easy to spot once I began to look for them. For one, Haruko’s hands were smaller than my former husband’s, and not as gentle. More strikingly, Haruko had none of Yasha’s patience. The demon would always comb my hair slowly and languidly, as though he found infinite pleasure just in touching it. By contrast, Haruko moved efficiently, combing my hair as though it were simply a chore that needed to get done. I appreciated that attitude.

After hardly a minute, she lifted a lock of my hair and sighed. “I’m so jealous,” she said mildly. “Your hair is so easy to comb. Like it actually _wants _to do what it’s told. It takes me ages to get mine straight and neat like this.”

“Oh…” I smiled nervously. “Thanks. I wish you could have my hair.”

“Ha!” It was a single, blasting syllable of a laugh. She grinned at me playfully. “That’s sweet of you, Hiroshi-kun.”

Laying aside the comb, she moved behind me next and gathered all my hair together. Presently, I felt her folding and twisting it into a braid. “Let me know if this feels too tight, okay?” I sat still while she worked with quick, competent movements. Outside, it sounded like the organizers were moving the table into place for tonight’s feast. The paper walls of the guest house glowed from all the lanterns outside.

Before I knew it, she took a black string from her pocket, tied up my hair, and sat back to admire her handywork. “Much better! Now _that’s _a manly style.” I reached back to try and feel at the style she’d woven, but Haruko smacked my hand away. “Don’t mess it up!” she reproached.

I rubbed at my stinging hand. “I just wanted to know what it looks like.”

“There’s likely to be at least one other man at the party with this style. I can point it out to you then.” She slid around in front of me. “Okay, now let’s get your makeup sorted out.”

My stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. “Makeup? How is that going to help?”

Haruko stopped in the act of pulling something out of her box and looked at me frankly. “Do you know, Hiroshi-kun, I think that’s the first time I was able to tell that you’re from the sticks.”

“Huh?”

Haruko smiled graciously as she pulled out a makeup brush and a jar of dense, white powder. “Men who aren’t from the city often don’t realize that men can wear makeup. And not just in kabuki either. All the men in the royal courts wear makeup, and even a lot of well-to-do merchant’s and artisans.” She was already starting to brush my face with the powder as she spoke.

“Really?” I asked at a moment when the brush wasn’t near my lips.

“Mhm. Did you notice that my dad wears makeup?”

I scrutinized her face for any sign she was joking but found none. “Does he really?”

“Yep. Every day before he heads in to work.” She smiled, laying the brush aside and resealing the jar. “Makeup doesn’t have to be obvious. It can make you look more masculine if you want. It’s all…” she rested an elbow on her knee, “… in how you use it…”

I sat very still while she looked at my face, occasionally tilting this way and that to get a better look at me. I thought of Yasha again, but the comparisons didn’t hold up under scrutiny. Yasha’s makeup never made him look more masculine, and he’d only ever made me wear makeup for _his _benefit.

Haruko lifted my chin gently with her fingers, then tutted. “The real problem here is your jawline.”

I touched at my jaw reflexively. “My jaw?”

Haruko casually smacked my hand aside without breaking concentration. “Yes, your jawline… It’s so smooth… You have a woman’s jaw for sure.”

I felt heat spreading up my neck and reddening the tips of my ears. “O-oh…”

Noticing this, she patted the same hand that she’d smacked a moment ago. “Don’t worry, it’s not insurmountable. It’s just an obstacle. Itsuki usually paints fake stubble on her face whenever she’s posing as a man, but that wouldn’t look good on you.”

Before she could go any further, I held up my hands. “Wait, wait a minute… so you’re telling me,” I said, speaking slowly and carefully, “that… here in the big city… men wear makeup… and women put on makeup to look like men?”

We stared unmoving at one another for a heartbeat, and then we both started laughing at the same time. It doesn’t really seem _that _funny in retrospect, but it certainly was then. It was the first time in years that I’d laughed with somebody, and it felt so, _so _good. Haruko must have caught some of my euphoria. After nearly half a minute, she rolled forward and punched me in the shoulder, still laughing. “Will you shut up?!” she yelped between cackles. “I have to concentrate!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry.” Eventually, we both managed to settle down and Haruko could get started on the next stage of the makeup. Over the next ten minutes, she carefully deepened my cheeks and ‘gave me’ a suggestion of a jawline.

“Still needs something,” she said, looking at my face and chewing at her lower lip. Then her face brightened, and she snapped her fingers excitedly. “Of course! It’s been staring me in the face this whole time!”

“What?” I asked.

“Your eyes!”

“Oh, you don’t say. I’ve been staring at you with my eyes?”

Her expression froze, and then she punched me in the shoulder again – this time hard enough to hurt. She was grinning, though. “I told you to stop that!”

“You started it!” I snarked, grinning and rubbing my shoulder.

She lifted her fist. “Want me to hit you again?”

I covered my shoulder and leaned back. “No!”

“Then let me focus!”

We settled down again, and Haruko began to work on my eyes with something that looked like a stylus made of charcoal. She said it was to give ‘the stare’ of my eyes more definition. It was uncomfortable, and it rubbed right against the edge of my eyelids. To conclude, she made a horizontal mark at the outer corners of either eye, then sat back with a grin. “Now _that’s _a man!”

“Really?” I asked, hopeful but dubious.

“See for yourself!” Without warning, she turned her makeup case around to face me, and I saw that there was a mirror embedded in the lid of the case.

My stomach clenched. Then it relaxed just as quickly when I actually saw what I looked like. The underside of my jaw had been darkened just enough that they wouldn’t glow with the rest of my pale skin in direct light. It gave the impression of a firmly set jaw. My eyes…

I had to stare for a long minute to appreciate what Haruko had done. Very cunningly, she had made my eye sockets look a little deeper and focused them so that my neutral expression seemed _almost _to be glaring. When I _did _glare, the effect was rather fearsome. Watching myself in profile, I saw that she’d simply formed it into a ponytail, then neatly folded a single loop at the back of my head. It was, on reflection, a style I’d seen at least two of the men at the port wearing a few days ago.

Altogether, I looked like some imperious princeling from the Song empire. And true to her word, Haruko had done it so skillfully that I could hardly tell it was makeup. It still wasn’t exactly _my _face, but nobody would mistake me for a woman with this face and the kimono I was wearing.

I looked at Haruko. “That… _That _is incredible!”

She grinned happily, putting away all of her tools. “Itsuki could probably have done better, but I’m proud of this one.” Once it was all packed, she turned toward me yet again. “Okay, now say something manly.”

I blinked. “Uh… what?”

She grinned. “C’mon, I can accent your masculine features, but it’s all gonna be for nothing if you still sound like a girl. Say something manly.”

I stared. “Are… you teasing me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I _was_, but I think you just validated my point with that question. C’mon! Say something to make me believe you’re a man!”

I leaned back as Haruko leaned forward, feeling flustered while my brain wrestled with the challenge. Annoyingly, the only examples of ‘manliness’ my mind could conjure were based on Yasha’s more arrogant moments. It felt wrong to use that – like I was still relying on him. But Haruko was getting more insistent, and I felt the pressure mounting.

Putting a hand over my mental filter, I called one of the demon’s sly, arrogant leers to mind, imitated the expression as best I could, and stared directly into her pale brown eyes. “You’re getting awfully bossy with me, Haruko-chan,” I breathed, leaning toward her to speak low and soft. “If you’re not careful, I might decide to do something about it.”

All the emotion drained from Haruko’s face. When she didn’t say anything after about 8 seconds, I thought back on what I’d just said.

Heat started in my collarbone and spread up my neck. By the time it reached my ears, my brain was brewing in a steam bath of humiliation. “I… I’m so sorry…”

She blinked, and then her whole body became animated again. “No, no, that was good!” she assured. “That was…” As she trailed off, I saw a shade of pink lighting up under her cheeks. She started to fan herself with her hands. “That was really… _really _good…” She suddenly pointed at me emphatically. “_Don’t _do that again, you hear me?”

“Right!” I didn’t have to be told.

“Okay…” After taking a few more deep breaths to cool off, Haruko got all her things together. “I’m going to see if Mom needs any help inside. Will you be ready to meet everybody in half an hour?”

I nodded. “Yeah… and Haruko-chan?” She stopped just as she’d been about to stand. I bowed to her. “Thank you for all your help.”

She stared at me appraisingly for a moment, then a very genuine smile touched her lips. “Any time.”

*****

My recollection of the party is pretty fuzzy for the most part. There was a sort of meet and greet when guests were still arriving, and ojisan introduced me to various members of Kyoto’s upper crust. I struggled to hold onto even a single name for more than a few minutes. This day, I only remember meeting a truly ancient man named Yamamoto, and I couldn’t have told you his profession, who he was related to, or how Shiragawa knew him to save my life.

It was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I’d had since coming back to the world of men. I never left ojisan’s side for an instant until the dinner started. I felt instinctively that his presence was keeping some kind of predatory, animal ‘crowd-will’ at bay, and that I would become vulnerable the moment I strayed too far. And always, whenever I was out of my depth in a conversation (which was every conversation), I imitated the polite smiles of those around me and nodded along.

I don’t remember what we ate for dinner. Twice, someone approached me and set a cup of sake in front of me, and I faltered. Both times, Shiragawa was quick to accept and often drink the cups on my behalf. No more drinks came after that.

Shortly after the dinner, ojisan whispered to me that I needed to spend at least a few minutes socializing on my own – if only to be seen talking to people without a hand to hold. It was a warm night, but I felt a chill run down my spine from the moment he left me to fend for myself. After that… I don’t remember to what extent the nature of the conversation changed. I tried to keep the image of my face after Haruko had finished with it in mind. My face, if I only kept my expression neutral, was the sort of stern, regal face that would discourage impertinent questions.

With one exception. At one juncture, I was speaking to a group of women ranging in age from 25 to 50. I can’t now recall what their association was… In any event, introductions had been completed, and we were moving through the motions of basic small talk. I suppose they must have been expressing their condolences regarding the fire of Umi no Mura, as a number of guests had done.

Then one of the women, who I judged to be roughly 35, met my gaze directly and said, “All things considered, you must feel quite fortunate. A god’s benevolence, and the gift of unrivaled beauty, must make the loss of your inheritance seem like a small price to pay.” This was, in part, a reference to the ‘official story’ ojisan had tried to propagate: ostensibly, I had gone wandering about, mad with grief after finding my village razed, and I stumbled upon an abandoned shrine whose god had tended to me until my heart and mind had healed. It was my long exposure to the heavenly presence that had turned the color of my eyes, and the food of the spirits had rendered my hair and skin so beautiful. It was a lie that had turned my stomach in the devising, but which I was now almost accustomed to affirming through my teeth.

Until this woman said that thing.

Silence bled into the conversation like blood from a gaping wound. She was the only member of the assembled women meeting my gaze, and in fairness, most of the others looked embarrassed to be in her company. A few of them, though, I caught hiding vicious smiles behind their hands.

For my part… I was speechless. My jaws were clenched shut out of instinct, but she gave no sign of intimidation at my stare. She was tacitly daring me to reply. To agree with her would be admitting to filial impiety, and disagreeing with her would be showing ingratitude to the gods. I could perhaps have called her out for deliberately laying such a trap, but not without more time to word a response, unless I planned to make a scene at the party my distant cousin had arranged in my honor.

Then, out of nowhere, Lady Shiragawa’s voice cut into the stillness. “We should _all_ be so lucky.” All eyes moved to my left, and Lady Shiragawa slid into place by my side, wearing the same well-practiced smile she’d given her husband the day I arrived. Her gaze locked with that of my inquisitor, and I could swear the night became a few degrees warmer. “All pray fervently in times of hardship, and so the gods only have time to answer the prayers of a few. The rest of us must get help where we can find it.” Nobody seemed to know what to say to this. Then, after a lull, Karin stepped forward and began rubbing the fabric of the woman’s sleeve between her fingers. “This is just exquisite, Mai-san! I must say, I would be very fortunate to have my shopping done by a man with such good taste as your neighbor Kaneda-kun.”

All the color drained from ‘Mai-san’s’ face in an instant. Stiffly, she answered, “It was a gift, actually. From my brother.”

“Ahh,” Karin nodded, smiling sweetly. “The one from Kansai?”

“Yes…” Mai sounded as though the word were about to choke her. At more-or-less this point, one of Mai’s friends saw someone else at the party who they simply _must _greet, so they made their salutations and left.

Once they were out of shot, Lady Shiragawa gave an indelicate snort. “Really… the nerve of some people!” She half-turned toward me. “Hiroshi, don’t let jealous old hags like that get to you. They’re only nipping at you because they’re too scared to come after _me_.” She pressed her hand against the small of my back. “Don’t you pay them any heed, my boy.”

I felt my lips stretch with my first real smile since the party started. “Thanks, Auntie.”

She gave me a subdued grunt of acknowledgement. “Now… I’m starting to feel a little dizzy from all this noise.” Her hand moved to find my elbow and grasp it firmly. “Lead me back inside, would you?”

“Yes, Auntie.”

The house itself had been designated off-limits to all but family, and it was agreed that I should retreat here once I’d made a good showing amongst the other guests. On the way there, I caught the eye of Keita among the other guests. We exchanged a nod and a smile. I longed to go over and talk to him, but… I was with Auntie Karin, and he was with a group of his own. We would have to catch up some other time.

Haruko was sitting in the family parlor when we walked in, reading an elegantly calligraphed scroll in spite of the noise from outside. Karin looked a little startled to see her there.

“Haru-chan, what are you in here for? I thought for sure you would be out there with Itsuki.”

“Mm-m…” Haruko finished her sentence, then laid a finger on the scroll to mark her place as she looked up. “Itsuki couldn’t make it. She’s expecting her third one before long.”

“Already?” Karin gave an appreciative huff. “She’s really making up for lost time, isn’t she? I must say, I’m proud of her.”

“Uh-huh.” Haruko turned her attention back to the scroll. I noticed a certain pointedness in the way Karin stared at her daughter’s eyes while Haruko refused to meet her mother’s gaze.

Karin noticed me again as I shifted my weight uncomfortably. Se let go of my arm and patted me tenderly on the shoulder. “Thank you for your help, nephew. You can return to the party now… or stay here and test the civility of my Haru-chan’s mood.” A little grin tugged at Haruko’s lips without her mother noticing. I just nodded politely. “If my husband asks,” Lady Shiragawa concluded, “let him know that I decided to get an early night. Good night, Hiroshi. Haru-chan.”

I offered a slight bow. “Good night, Auntie Karin.”

“Night, Mom.”

After Karin’s footsteps had faded away, Haruko looked up from her scroll with a grin, then rolled her eyes at her mother’s attitude. Still, Karin had just come to my rescue a moment ago, so I wasn’t in a position to make sport of her. So instead, I took a seat cushion a pace down the table from Haruko. “Thank you again for your help tonight.”

She looked up from her scroll again, beaming. “Nobody mistook you for a woman, I take it?”

“Not one,” I affirmed, not mentioning that her father was also largely to thank for that. “Even better, fewer people than I expected remarked on my appearance at all.”

“Hardly surprising,” she said. “Right now, your stare is so icy and penetrating. Even _I _might be afraid to talk to you, had I not seen you without the makeup.”

“Yeah…” That thought made me a little bashful. Hard to imagine such a bold person as Haruko being intimidated by someone like me. “So… If you’re in here reading, that must be a very good scroll.”

“I suppose it is,” she said with a shrug, looking at it again. “But then, I have a lot invested in it by how.”

“What is it?”

She gave another shrug, her eyes scanning the page. “Just a history of the Kingdom of Goguryeo.”

I straightened up, recognizing the name. “South of China during the Tang dynasty, right?”

She looked at me, eyes widening. “Yes, actually… though the history goes back a bit further than that. Surprisingly few people know anything about them.”

Now I shrugged. “I’ve seen maps of the peninsula before, and there are references to them in some of the Tang histories I’ve read. I haven’t had a chance to study the kingdom in any depth.”

“I have,” Haruko said, tracing a finger along one of the characters on the scroll. “I’ve always had a penchant for history, as well as folklore.”

I thought about this. “What’s the difference, in your opinion?”

Haruko quirked a brow with interest. “Well… much of it has to do with the content, but I think it’s also largely to do with the social status of the author, the precedent for the particular subject, where the most reliable accounts come from… and to an extent, the social status of the people most interested in the subject.”

I pointed to the scroll, “So what makes this one history instead of folklore?”

Haruko beamed at the question. “Well, for a start it was written by…”

This conversation carried on well after all the party guests had gone home. In this time, Haruko was able to give me a capsule version of the history of the Kingdom of Goguryeo, as well as half a dozen of its neighboring kingdoms. All the time I’d spent studying Yasha’s atlas suddenly felt well-spent. It was still doubtful that I would ever visit those distant places, but the maps gave me a framework for understanding Haruko’s discourse on geography and history. Talking to her, I felt like I’d been granted a private audience with an imperial scholar.

This was the first real friendship I’d started since my return. She was kind, brave, intelligent, and interesting, and she was the first person besides Keita who seemed to really see the Sato no Hiroshi buried beneath the layers of Yasha’s alteration.  
If it was Shiragawa no Renji who made me feel like family, then it was Shiragawa no Haruko who made me feel human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story, I honestly thought I was going to have to drop that first bit. It's a sequence I've been stewing on since I started on Book II, but I just never found a way to work it into the narrative. When Book III started, I was resigned to cutting it out altogether, but low and behold, the opportunity presented itself. I like to think it works pretty well in this position, too. It can't be called completely gratuitous, because it offers an insight into Hiroshi's mental health at this point in the story. 
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out. Sorry, also, for lying to you all about the length of the story... again XP 
> 
> The good news is that, although I've just started a new job that's going to take some time to adjust to, I went ahead and finished drafting the rest of the story over my vacation. So now it's all just a matter of typing it up and proofreading it. 
> 
> Anyway... Forms of address are hard. That was the main struggle that defined this chapter for me as a writer. 
> 
> Loving you all, and wishing you the best! I'll see you all after Turkey Day!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hiroshi,” ojisan said as we sat in his private receiving room with a bottle of plum wine between us. “What do you think of my daughter, Haruko? Do you like her?”

Three months had passed since my return to the world of the living, and things were going far better than expected. Following the homecoming party, I made an effort to get outside and get some exercise every day. Haruko and ojisan encouraged my exercise and often accompanied me on my walks. It took the better part of a week before I could walk a full mile without rest, and I still couldn’t be out in the sun for long without a parasol.

But by the end of the first month, I could walk nearly three miles unassisted. The progress of autumn also helped. Furthermore, Haruko took to fixing my hair and makeup for me every day. I guess it was because of this that I decided to keep my hair long. This and the sight of other men – and many of them very manly men – with hair as long as mine. Like a small animal, I was skittish around large crowds of people and deliberately chose routes that circumvented heavy foot traffic. As my strength returned, Haruko started to introduce me to her friends, and we were out among the people more often. She even introduced me to the ‘Itsuki’ she’d spoken of so often.

Itsuki was pretty different from what I’d pictured. I’d imagined a woman tall and regal, but she was rather plain, shorter than Haruko or myself, and just past 30 years old. Also, as Haruko mentioned back at the party, she was pregnant. Her dialect was a little rough, and she had a habit of speaking louder than necessary whenever she was addressing her two daughters, the oldest of whom was only three. No opportunity to see Itsuki in this man’s costume Haruko mentioned ever came up, and the way Haru kept teasingly calling her ‘ojisan’ during our visits made me even more curious.

Invariably when we went out, I kept my eyes peeled for sight of Keita, but he was so damn illusive. Twice during my first moth, I came home from a walk to learn that Keita had come calling, but gone home without leaving a message when he learned that I wasn’t present. The second time it happened, I felt pathetically tempted to cry. I didn’t, though – not in front of Haruko.

Then, during my second month, I ran into him by chance. Quite literally. While rounding a corner at the same time, our bodies collided. Keita reflexively grabbed me in his arms to keep me from falling over, and then his embrace became a bearhug as he recognized me. It was a relief to see him again in the flesh. It turns out, Kei had thought of coming to call quite a few times, but he’d always felt so out of place inviting himself to the Shiragawa estate. He ‘didn’t feel worthy,’ I gathered. I mentioned this to Shiragawa later that evening, and ojisan promptly came through for me by cornering Keita at work and telling him that he was welcome to come visit me anytime.

“Especially,” ojisan[1] said, “if you can get young Hiroshi out of the house. The boy needs some more masculine company to occupy his time. Introduce him to some of your friends, Inomata-san.” Keita smiled and said he would try, but he never did. Whenever we went out, it was usually just the two of us. I didn’t mind that at all.

Almost miraculously, opinions about me really did change for the better as time went by. I suppose part of it was just people growing accustomed to the sight of me, but I have to thank Haruko as well. She had such a normal, unremarkable way of speaking to me when we were in public. Apart from the help with hair and makeup, I think that helped to humanize me in the eyes of others.

I only had one more episode of enhanced hearing in all this time – too banal to relate in detail. Only two of the voices I heard were even saying things pertaining to me, and they seemed well-disposed toward me anyway. The rest was just everyday chatter and gossip. I hoped that it was just some aftershock of my exposure to the Underworld, and that it had finally run itself out for good.

During the first few months, I didn’t get much chance to bond with Shiragawa no Karin. She was the sort who didn’t like to speak unless she had a purpose in mind. Even when we were just exchanging pleasantries, she didn’t ask after my health merely to be polite, but because it was her duty as wife of the head of house. I know this because whenever I asked after _her _health, she would reply, “Don’t you worry about that. It’s not your duty to be worried about my health.” This could have been a charming sentiment, I suppose, but personally I just found it off-putting.

However, Shiragawa no Karin played the koto.

Sometime during the third month, I suffered from a recurring nightmare. I dreamt that Yasha had come to take me back, and he was cutting a bloody swath through the city to find me. I could hear his voice calling to me over the growing sound of screams. I ran and ran, but the noise was getting louder. The flames were licking at my back and my calves, the smoke burned in my lungs.

As I dragged myself into wakefulness, I found that I was lying on my belly with my arms spread out in front of me. My limbs shook convulsively with the energy it took to pull myself up from the nightmare. When I first heard the plucking of koto strings as I lay tear-stained beneath the blankets, I mistook it for some prevailing apparition trying to pull me back into the world of nightmares. I pushed myself up onto all fours despite my exhaustion and shook myself like a dog.

Yet, as the fog of sleep dispersed, the sound of the koto grew clearer. I fancied I almost recognized the melody. So clinging to this strange happenstance as an excuse not to go back to sleep, I draped a kimono about my shoulders and ventured into the chill autumn night. After a long and rainy day, the sky was expunged of clouds and open to the overhanging ocean of stars. I slipped into my sandals without bothering to put socks on, lest I dampen them in the wet turf.

The yard was full of leaves that had fallen since the last raking, but the damp suppressed the sound of my footfalls. The koto’s melody led me to the innermost corner toward the patriarch’s wing of the house. It was a cold night, and the wind blew over the wall of the estate, but I was drawn to the sound and to the light that glowed through one of the closed doors.

Carefully, I crept up onto the deck, sliding my sandals off and laying them on the grass to remain undetected. Then I knelt beside the door, drew my kimono tight about myself, and listened to the player inside. I finally recognized the tune as being my eldest brother’s favorite, and I smiled through a feeling of melancholy. The cold deepened, and the wind never abated, but I didn’t move. I wanted to stay – to listen.

I only found out that I’d dozed off when the door beside me was flung open, and I started upright to find Lady Shiragawa standing over me with a halo of fury about her head. I cowered on my knees before her anger, unable to stop my teeth from chattering. It must have been this that alerted her to my presence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here, boy?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper.

I bent my head apologetically. “I’m s-s-sorry, A-auntie… I c-c-couldn’t s-sleep, and I… h… heard your p-p-p-playing…”

She snapped her fingers to draw my attention, then pointed inside. Obediently, I shuffled to the corner of the room where she’d indicated and sat myself on a cushion. Karin pulled the koto picks off her fingers and laid them on a cloth beside her koto, then marched up to me with a murderous glare. “What on earth were you _thinking_, boy?” she hissed. “How dare you! Are you trying to make yourself sick in _my_ household? Answer me!”

I kept my eyes on the floor. “No, Auntie.”

“Do you have any idea what people would say of me if a guest died of exposure before our very door?” she continued, fists clenched at her sides as she scolded me. “Do you realize you could have met your death of cold out there?”

“I’m sorry, Auntie.”

“If someone had looked over the wall just then and seen you crouching next to the door like… like some kind of peeping-tom, what would they have said? What should I have done? Is that the sort of reputation you want to give our family?”

My ears burned while my stomach twisted itself up in knots. “No, Auntie.”

“What if I hadn’t heard you just now? What if I’d gone back to bed, and we all woke up to find you blue and dead? After we’d already thought you dead once before! Do you want to do that to us?”

I shook my head, barely able to move my lips for shame. “I’m… sorry, Auntie…”

Karin was still but for the folds of her night dress, which shivered in her fury. Finally she said, “Stay there,” and walked out of the room.

In her absence, while stewing over my guilt, I looked around the room. It was, of course, the same parlor where Haruko and I had our first talk about history. Very little had changed. On a small side table, a clay cup sat beside a steaming teapot. I had to wonder how often Karin came out here to play the koto in the dead of night.

After a minute or so, she returned with a blanket and a second cup. I was a little taken aback when she draped the blanket about my shoulders, filled each cup with tea and handed one of them to me. She had calmed down somewhat in that now she merely looked angry, as opposed to ready to rip my intestines out through my earholes.

With me now bundled up and sipping at my cup of black tea, Karin retook her seat in front of her koto, helped herself to a gulp of tea, then started to pull the koto picks back onto her fingers. “I also have difficulty sleeping at times,” Karin said. “This is how I relax myself, instead of sitting out in the cold like a moron.” I decided to accept this reproach silently and took another sip. “So from now on, if you hear me playing, you’re welcome to come and listen. Provided you promise to come _inside _so you don’t freeze to death.”

I ducked my had at the pointed remark. “Yes, Auntie.”

With a soft huff, she ran her fingers down the strings and made sure they were properly tuned. “Still… you seem to find my music worth dying for, and that’s not a compliment I can ignore… no matter how stupid.” I smiled sheepishly. “So… any requests?” It’s a little cliché, but I asked Karin to play a lullaby that my mother used to sing to me. She rendered it beautifully.

I woke up in the parlor the following morning, laying on the floor with the blanket pulled over me. Another cushion had been placed under my head.

Some weeks later, Haruko and I went to visit Itsuki to congratulate her on the new arrival. It was her first son, and he had come a week late. Hence, Itsuki was relieved to see us, and we stayed for most of the afternoon to help take care of her two daughters. I tended to be popular with young girls, but I quickly had to accept that there was no threat, bribe, nor logic on earth that could dissuade them from calling me ‘Oneesan.’

It was close to evening by the time we returned home. To my surprise, Renji-ojisan was waiting for us at the gate.

“Evening, Tosan[2],” Haruko said, bemused. “Is anything the matter?”

But Shiragawa was smiling as we approached. “Not at all! I just wanted to see you both first thing when you got back.” Behind him, Hanzo stood at his usual post, staring grimly at nobody in particular.

“How sweet of you,” Haruko said, giving her father a kiss on the cheek.

“Itsuki is well, I take it?”

Haruko nodded, pausing at the gate. “Very well. She’s every bit as tired as you would expect, but her boy is remarkably tranquil.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Either by the off-hand way he’d been speaking to his daughter or the casually purposeful way his eyes turned to me, I guessed that I was the one he’d really been waiting for. After an appropriate pause, he looked at me and said, “Hiroshi, my boy, might I have a word with you in private?”

I glanced at Haruko. She met my gaze, but her expression was curiously unreadable. “Of course, ojisan,” I said graciously, with just a hint of anxiety.

With a grand gesture, ojisan led me through the gate. Hanzo bowed stiffly as we walked through, then pulled the door shut behind us. “Haruko, do be a dear and let your mother know we’ll be out in time for dinner.”

“Yes, Tosan.” She and I exchanged a small wave before going our separate ways, and I accompanied ojisan back to his receiving room.

There, things had already been set up. Two cushions had been placed close to one another at a corner of the table. On the table itself, there rested a large clay jar. As we sat down, I caught a whiff of something overpoweringly sweet.

“What’s that?” I asked precipitately.

Ojisan chuckled. “A special gift from my brother. Plum wine.”

“Plum wine…” That brought back some _very _old memories.

Ojisan seemed to get the wrong impression from my hesitation. “I won’t be insulted if you don’t want any,” he said hastily. “I know sake doesn’t sit well with you, but I thought this might be different. Plus, since Karin doesn’t drink and it’s too sweet for Haruko, I’ll wind up drinking it alone otherwise.”

I contemplated this for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I can try just a little sip. If there are no ill effects, I can always have more.”

Shiragawa grinned. “There’s a good lad!” He lifted the jar carefully and trickled just enough to taste into my cup.

I lifted it up, nodded an acknowledgement to ojisan, then tilted the dark, pink liquid onto my tongue. It didn’t taste a thing like sake. It was like concentrated, syrupy fruit juice, only wetter and slightly more tart. When I lowered my cup, a broad, helpless grin was left on my lips.

Ojisan could hardly have been more pleased. “That went down well, eh? Shall we share it, then?”

“Absolutely!” I set my cup down as ojisan lifted the jar, and this time he filled it up to the brim. In return, I offered to fill Shiragawa’s cup for him, and then we both raised our cups. “Shall we drink to anything in particular?” I asked.

“Hmm…” Shiragawa rubbed at his mustache thoughtfully. “It would seem appropriate. But to what?”

I gave it some thought as well. “It’s been… about 3 months since I came to Kyoto, hasn’t it?”

“3 months and 5 days,” Shiragawa answered without hesitation. “So it’s a bit late to make that toast.”

“Oh… Right…” I was more than a bit surprised to hear ojisan rattle off the date so quickly. I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by such fastidious attention.

Then he laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, we found out that you like plum wine. That’s worth a drink, I’d say.”

That pulled a snicker out of me. “Sounds alright to me. To plum wine, then.”

“To plum wine!” Then we tapped cups and downed our wine together. Ojisan let out a sigh of contentment as he clacked his cup back onto the table. “That really hits the spot.”

“It did,” I agreed. Then a distant memory came to the surface, and I made a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Have I ever told you about the first time I drank plum wine?”

Ojisan shook his head. “Don’t recall it.”

“I couldn’t have been much older than 10 or 11… and on one of our days off, my brothers and I were out looking for fun and… making mischief.”

“Mischief? You?” Shiragawa asked with affected astonishment.

“What can I say? Parents painstakingly paint their children with coat upon coat of the varnish of good discipline, but there’s nobody like an older brother to scrape that varnish right off.”

Ojisan leaned back with a hand to his chest, shoulders shaking. He was one of those people whose laughter sounds like soft, rapid wheezing, even when his mouth is wide open and his belly shakes with the force of it. All the while, he kept pointing to me emphatically, signaling that he had a comment to make – just as soon as he caught his breath.

“That,” he gasped, then took another few seconds to calm himself. “Truth… it’s so true…” He wiped a tear from his eyes. _Was it really that funny, or did he start drinking before I arrived? _I wondered. “The same older brother who gave me this wine… He used to talk me into all _kinds _of stunts and hijinks. I think I must have gotten punished more often than he did as a child, and all because I was too trusting of him.”

I nodded sympathetically. “There’s no Oni-san like an Onii-san.”[1] I had to wait another minute for Renji to get the laughter from this fresh witticism out of his system, then he waved me to continue. “So that day, my brothers and I snuck into a neighbor’s storehouse to get ourselves a snack. And this neighbor happened to have a jar, much like this one, that we thought was fruit juice. I’d never had plum wine, and I don’t think my second brother had either. Our eldest brother, though… I think he was 15 or 16 at the time. He definitely knew what it was.

“He took one gulp of it, then said that since he was such a ‘good big brother,’ he’d let the two of us drink as much as we wanted. My second brother took a big gulp, but then he complained it was too sour and passed it to me. I had no self-control, though, and I took two huge gulps right away. Then, after already drinking so much, I realized how acrid the ‘juice’ was, and I pulled it away from my lips so fast that it slipped out of my hands. The jar broke, I splashed all three of us with wine, and we had to run home as fast as we could before our neighbor could come out and investigate the noise.

“But when we made it home, Mom saw us before we could change out of our clothes, and we had to confess the whole thing. We said at first that it was just fruit juice, and she threatened to send us to bed without supper, but… I was pretty obviously drunk. I was hiccupping and slurring, and eventually I fell over. That’s when she figured out the real story. Mom pulled me out back by the ear, brought out a pan full of charcoal, and made me eat a handful of it and wash it down with cold water.” I rubbed a hand across my face. “That was the cruelest punishment she ever gave me, and I think that was when I stopped listening to my oldest brother.”

Ojisan chuckled. “That isn’t a punishment, actually. Swallowing a small quantity of charcoal is basic treatment for someone who’s swallowed something poisonous.”

I blinked in surprise. “Is it really?”

He nodded. “When Haruko was young, we used to keep a jar of it in the kitchen for that very purpose.”

“Huh…” I thought back on that day, recalling my mother’s angry face. I’d thought it unfair at the time that I was the only one given this punishment just because I’d drank the most. This put the event in perspective.

In the pause that followed, Renji tilted his empty up this way and that. “Well, it had been quite a while since then. Perhaps you’d care for another?” 

I smiled and shook my head. “Not for me. I wouldn’t want to drink too much before dinner.”

“True, true enough.” Ojisan gave his cup a searching look, then tapped it against the table. “But go on, then. I’ve seen what we’re having for dinner, and I may need the extra courage to stomach it.”

With an appreciative laugh, I picked up the jar and filled Renji’s cup for him. It was while I filled it that I caught the deep, planning look in this eyes. “Thanks,” he said as I set the jar back down. This time, he took only a tiny sip of wine. “Hiroshi…” He scooted a little closer. “I want to ask you something.”

His tone and manner bespoke the broaching of a serious conversation. “Yes?” I said, straightening attentively.

Shiragawa balanced a finger along the rim of his wine cup for a moment. Then he looked to me and asked, “What do you think of my daughter, Haruko? Do you like her?”

It took me a minute just to process the question. Funnily, I think I parsed the _motive _of the question before I made sense of the actual meaning. But this was a matter that called for delicacy. “Haruko… has been extraordinarily kind to me since I arrived. She’s helped me to feel like less of an outsider, and I feel that she’s been as instrumental to my acceptance by the wider Kyoto community as you yourself, ojisan.” I could see that my answer seemed to please Shiragawa and left it at that. After a moment, though, I had the distinct impression that he was waiting for something else. “Why do you ask, ojisan?”

Shiragawa leaned back a little and stared out in thought. He took a deep gulp from his wine before answering. “I’ll make it plain for you, my boy… Haruko is now 22 years of age.”

That did surprise me a little. “Only 22?”

Shiragawa stiffened, his train of thought broken. “Yes… ‘only’ twenty-two,” he said with the barest trace of reproach.

Heat flooded up my neck as I realized belatedly what I’d said. “Uh!” I fought to keep the strain out of my voice and not sound like I was just making excuses. “What I mean is… I… Haruko seems so mature and intelligent… I thought all this time that we were the same age.”

Shiragawa had been holding his hard expression throughout most of this, but it fell into a look of puzzlement at the last detail. His brow furrowed while he stared at me, lips moving without noise. Then the realization dawned on him, and he threw his head back in raucous laughter. “That’s right! With your youthful good looks, it’s easy to forget you’re actually older than my daughter. You’re… what, 26 now?”

“25,” I corrected. “I turn 26 in another month.”

“Twenty-five…” he said, giving me a thoughtful look. “That’s a good age, 25… Actually, that makes what I want to ask you a lot easier.”

“Yes, ojisan?”

“You see, Hiroshi…” He took another small sip from his cup and readjusted his seat. “I know you’ve only been back with us for 3 months, and… maybe you’re still adjusting to life here. But if it isn’t too soon to talk of such things… well…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You see, my boy… Haruko has been old enough to marry for some time now. It’s a fact that has been of concern to both me and her mother. I have introduced a few suitors to her, but… she didn’t care for any of them. She’s headstrong, that girl, and she’s understandably picky about the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with. Karin and I had our share of difficulties early in our marriage, and I don’t intend to pressure my daughter into such an important decision before she’s ready.”

“So… how do I figure into all this?” I asked, though I felt pretty sure I knew.

“Well, Hiroshi…” Renji rested his weight on the corner of the table. “You’re three – nearly four – years older than Haruko, and still unmarried yourself. Have you thought that she might be a good match for you?”

So my guess was right. It was a bit of a surprise. Still… “I haven’t given it much thought, I must confess,” I said hesitantly, careful to pitch my voice so it wouldn’t come off as an outright refusal.

“Mm…” Renji nodded. After a pause, he ventured, “Do you find the idea… conceivable? Worth thinking about?”

I took a contemplative breath. “I suppose so.”

Renji nodded and adjusted his seat again. “Well, Hiroshi… the way I see it, there are a few advantages to such a marriage.” He lifted a hand and started counting off his fingers. “Your closeness of age, for a start. For another, you’ve already gotten to know each other these past few months, and it’s clear that you’re good friends. Few and happy are the couples who find friendship in one another. And not least of all, there’s your status.”

This part confused me. “Our… status?”

He nodded. “Fourth cousins. Altogether, that’s eight generations from the end of one bough to the next, but still descendants of the twins’ legacy.”

I sat up straight as the realization dawned on me. “A clan marriage!”

A big grin broke out on Renji’s face. “_Exactly_, my boy! A clan marriage – and at a most opportune time! With you being the last of the Sato’s, the main stem of our family came very close to extinction. But with a marriage to Haruko, Chihiro’s line would both endure _and _be strengthened through reuniting with the line of Sachiko.”

Sato… the line of Chihiro… a clan marriage… I had hardly given any thought to such grand concepts even before… before my misadventures began. It was strange to think of myself as part of something like that.

“Has… Haruko-chan said anything about this?” I asked.

The question seemed to please Renji even more. “Oh, yes! I went to her first, naturally! I asked what she thought of you, and do you know what she said?” I shook my head dutifully. “She thought about it, and she said that she really likes you. She says that you’re one of the very few men who, when they speak to her, see her as more than just a woman. She said that not only are you not intimidated by her wit and intellect, you really believe that you can learn valuable things from her. You’re one of the best companions she’s ever had.

“So hardly daring to hope, I asked her if she thinks you’re husband material. And you know what she said? She says, ‘If I must get married, I think I would actually enjoy having him as a husband.’” Renji’s excitement was almost palpable. “So, Hiroshi… I know it’s a lot to take in, and I don’t expect an answer immediately… but if the idea seems appealing to you, know that you have my blessing. You would make me truly proud, my boy.”

Then and there, I knew that whatever decision I made, I was honored that Shiragawa no Renji had even offered such a thing. I thought of asking for that second cup of wine after all, but I really shouldn’t. Not when I needed to think about something this important. Truthfully, though, I couldn’t think of any good reason to say no. The fact was, I _did _like Haruko. If I’d never thought of her as a potential wife before now, perhaps it was just a remnant of Yasha’s influence.

But he was gone now. He wasn’t my husband. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. Why _shouldn’t_ I try to find a legitimate spouse? What better way to show I’d overcome him than by starting a _real _family and a real home without him? Of course…

“Would you really be proud to have me as a son?” I asked hesitantly. “I mean… I lost my only trade with my family’s press, and all I’ve done these last three months is wallow in idleness and mooch off your family’s wealth.”

Renji laughed especially raucously at this concern. “Mooch? Why, Hiroshi, you’ve been a blessing!”

“Have I really?” I asked doubtfully.

“Oh, yes!” he assured. “Business has gone up by almost 20% from all the people buying my wares while they come in to ask about you.” Then he slapped himself on the knee and started up laughing again. I couldn’t help but laugh a little with him. “Ah, but if it really concerns you so much,” he continued, “you can always come work for me. You’re smart, after all. If nothing else, I can hire you as an assistant book-keeper.”

That _did _sound agreeable… And after a few minutes’ careful thought, no further reservations came to mind. So I looked Renji in the eyes and smiled. “Alright. Tonight during dinner, I’ll ask her.”

In my anxiety, I can’t recall what we had for dinner. It was customarily quiet while we ate, and from the glances I kept sneaking at Haruko, I couldn’t read anything unusual. Perhaps she was smiling a little more widely than usual? But perhaps not. Thanks to my distraction, she finished eating first.

“Thanks for the meal.” She bowed and was about to stand up when her father touched her elbow.

“Stay with us a bit longer,” he said with admirable composure. Haruko didn’t look especially surprised by the request, and she stayed in her seat without complaint. Then ojisan gave me a look to urge me on.

I adjusted my seat to face her. “Haruko, there’s something I would like to ask you.”

She met my gaze fearlessly. I could tell from her calm, expectant smile that she’d already guessed my next words. She was like a Go instructor reading nine moves ahead. “Yes?”

My nerves shook, but I returned her smile, drew in a deep breath, and asked with the traditional expression: “Will you marry me?”

Her smile split into a grin. Though not even remotely surprised, Haruko looked delighted. She cast a glance at her father.

Renji was staring at nobody in particular, slowly stroking his beard in a vain attempt to hide the smile on his lips. “Well, Haruko? We’re all waiting to hear you answer the young man’s question.”

Haruko shifted her gaze over to her mother, whose face was a perfect mask of serene dispassion. “Would it be alright with you, Mom?” 

A crack appeared in Karin’s placid façade. Her lip twitched, and she set down the cup of tea she’d been holding with a heavy sigh. “Haru-chan… _Must you _really ask me? Have I not _begged you _to consider men who were less worthy than Hiroshi just for my own peace of mind? With someone so handsome and so well-mannered, can you even picture me saying no?” Haruko smiled and looked away. Abruptly, Karin sat up straighter and rapped her fist against the table. “Haruko, I swear! If you plan to say no to him, then you better have a _damn good _husband picked by this time tomorrow! And good luck to you!” That short outburst out of the way, Karin picked up her tea again and resumed drinking.

Brimming with glee, Haruko met my eyes and affected a rueful sigh. “Doesn’t sound like I have much choice, does it?”

“Don’t say it like that,” I groaned, though I knew she was only joking. “I wouldn’t have asked if I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I _do _like you,” she sighed. “I suppose I’d just been hoping that my eventual husband would give me my first kiss _before _asking me to marry him. How am I supposed to know that he’s any good otherwise?”

“Haruko!” exclaimed Karin, aghast.

Ojisan leaned closer conspiratorially. “We could leave the room for a minute or two if you need some privacy.”

“Renji!” Karin shouted. She glared daggers at her husband, then pointed an accusing finger at his nose. “It’s _you _she gets it from!”

We two grinned at each other while the senior Shiragawa’s were thus occupied. In an attempt to deflect his wife’s ire, Renji returned his attention to Haruko. “Well, daughter dearest? No announcements can be made until you answer.”

She giggled, not taking her eyes off mine. “I accept. Of course.”

I reached a hand across the table and clasped fingers with Haruko. My fiancé. Renji clapped his hands in delight while Karin looked up toward heaven and offered a prayer of thanks. “Congratulations, you two! Congratulations!” Renji gushed, grabbing my bicep and shaking my arm enthusiastically. Then all of a sudden, he threw his arms about my shoulders and squeezed the breath out of me. “My son,” he gasped with amazement. “Welcome home, Hiroshi, my son.”

*****

Mine and Haruko’s engagement was declared “deeply respectable” by the greater Kyoto public. After three months, with Shiragawa’s introduction and Haruko’s company, my reputation had advanced from that of ‘glamorous stranger’ to ‘local celebrity,’ and a marriage to one of the cities most esteemed families would tie my reputation to Kyoto’s identity. Renji’s announcement that he was having a house built for Haruko and me right there in the city further confirmed my integration into the community. A few rumors did circulate in the first week that I had ‘bewitched’ Haruko into marrying me, but nobody took them seriously and they were quick to die out when it was observed that Haru was just the same as ever.

Renji wanted to hold the ceremony within the week. He’d probably have organized the wedding the day after our engagement if we’d let him. In the end, though, we convinced him to wait until a month later. To be exact, we convinced him to wait until the day before my 26th birthday. Karin thought it might be inconvenient to have two such important dates side-by-side, but I thought it rather auspicious. Dawn would break upon a new year of my life and my first as Haru-chan’s husband. It was perfect.

Renji and Karin took care of the bulk of the planning. All we had to do was welcome the many visitors who stopped by to offer congratulations and offer invitations to anyone outside of the family who we dearly wanted in attendance. In Haruko’s case, this meant Itsuki. For me… one person came to mind. 

Haruko and I eventually had to start taking our morning walks outside the city to get a break from our neighbors’ well-intentioned congratulations. It was curious how little things changed between us. We still talked exhaustively about history, geography, philosophy, and we read many of the same scrolls together. We often argued about what we’d read, but they were _fun _arguments. Enlightening, even. Arguing with Haruko helped to shake off some of the atrophy my mind had suffered in captivity, and for as seldom as we convinced each other of anything, we grew closer through our debates.

If there was one sour note during the engagement, it was that I had unaccountable difficulty inviting Keita to the wedding. Renji started training me as his assistant book keeper the week after the engagement, so I was at the warehouse often enough and saw Keita regularly. The news of my betrothal was inescapable, so he _must _have heard about it, but neither of us mentioned it. Our conversations, friendly and pleasant as they were, felt constantly spoiled by the niggling thought, ‘_I should mention it to him_.’ I told myself I just didn’t want to say it at an awkward moment.

I was afraid the right moment was never going to come when one evening, I found myself walking side-by-side with Keita on our way home. The nights were getting cooler, but Keita’s body was like a furnace, and I found myself walking as close as I could without touching him for the warmth he offered. Finally, out of the blue, I blurted out, “Did I ever mention that I’m getting married?”

I didn’t look at him while I said this, but I swear I _heard _the smirk stretching his lips. “I heard about that. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Haruko is a beautiful, witty, well-learned person. You deserve somebody like her. I think you two will be perfect together.”

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at him. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard a note of bitterness in his voice or not. “Kei,” I said hesitantly. “Are you… I mean…” Keita looked at me, and I suddenly lost courage. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Keita asked. I thought I was about to blush, but his tone was so mild and calming. I couldn’t bring myself to brush the question aside.

“It’s just…” I took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to put it plainly. “I was just worried that you might… I dunno… be mad at me.”

“Why should I be mad?” he asked with perfect nonchalance.

“I don’t know… Maybe you like Haruko and I stole her from you?” I’d walked another three steps before I realized Keita had stopped in his tracks. Fearfully, I looked around, frightened of what his reaction might be. But Kei was bracing one hand against the corner of a nearby building, covering his mouth as he tried to hold his laughter in. A hot blush spread up my neck. “What… What’s so funny?” I demanded, flustered.

Kei looked at me, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak at first. I waited a few long, tense seconds for him to regain his composure. Then, grinning sunnily at me, he stepped up and ruffled my hair. “You’re cute, Sato.”

I gasped indignantly and covered my head, backing away. “Hey, watch it! I’m older than you, remember!”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, brushing it off as he continued his walk.

I fell back into step with him. “So… you weren’t in love with her?”

I waited tensely for him to take another deep breath, still watching the road ahead of us. “No, Hiro-nii. I wasn’t in love with Haruko. And I meant what I said; you and Haru-oneesan seem good for each other. I wish you both the best.”

“Thank you.” For some reason, my heart was still pounding, and my stomach clenched with the need to finish what I’d started. “Kei…”

“Hm?”

“I would feel… honored if you would come to the wedding.” My voice cracked a little toward the end, and I felt like a fool.

Kei smiled and, without breaking stride, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and tugged me against his warm flank. “I wouldn’t miss it, bro.”

*****

Our wedding day felt like two separate days altogether. I woke up before dawn, buzzing with anxiety. The ceremony was scheduled for noon, but it seemed to take an age for the time to arrive. Haruko had taught me how to do my own makeup, but my fingers were trembling so bad that Renji had to help me. Second thoughts plagued me. A terrible, improbable vision intruded in which I imagined Yasha arriving just in time to interrupt the ceremony, declare that I was already his spouse, and drag me back to the Underworld. If that happened, I’d probably die on the spot.

“Tosan,” I said while Renji was painting my eyeliner.

“Hm?” He worked with impeccable focus. After Haruko’s makeup training, I could spot the traces of paints he used to smooth out his wrinkles and draw attention to his sharp vision.

“I know Haru-chan and I are good friends, but… do you think we’ll be good together? As husband and wife?”

Renji stopped what he was doing and looked me in the eye. Calmly, he lay his implements down and gave me wry smile. “Hiroshi… I don’t mean to make fun of you, but do you have any idea how lucky you actually are? Look at me and Karin. Our wedding night was only the fifth time we’d met, and we really struggled to like each other during the first few years. That’s part of the reason we started so late having Haruko, our first and only child. What do you think of us now, though? Do we seem like an old couple who despise each other?”

I smiled. “You two bicker every day, but I also hear you speak very fondly to one another.”

Renji nodded. “Looking at the two of you, it’s hard not to be envious. In four months, you’ve attained an intimacy that took us a decade to achieve. No matchmaker in the city could have devised it better – that’s what I say.”

I felt more confident after hearing that. “Thank you, Tosan.”

Despite Renji’s pep talk, I was a nervous wreck again in no time. I couldn’t attribute my feelings to any definite source – it was just the situation. It was Keita who came to encourage me then. He was easy to spot, being one of the only guests outside of the Shiragawa’s extended family. He came back to the guest house an hour before the ceremony, and we sat together and talked about nothing in particular. I don’t remember a word of our conversation, but his voice was so calming.

For the first time while I was sitting with him, I thought to myself, what if I really _was _a woman as I appeared to be? I would love to have a man like Keita for a husband. Whoever became Kei’s wife would be a very lucky woman indeed.

When the gong rang, Kei stayed with me while I got into place. The rest of the night passed like a dream. Haruko looked so beautiful in her bridal vestment. I felt her aura around me throughout the ceremony. Haruko’s grandfather performed the rites, so I was able to honor Renji in my vows.

At last, Grandfather passed us a cup that, out of consideration for my condition, had been filled with 5 parts plum wine to 1 part sake. Three times we each drank from the cup, and Grandfather offered a prayer for our prosperous marriage. Then, as we drank for a third time, the assembly of Shiragawa’s called out in chorus: “Kampai!” Applause and congratulations erupted behind us.

We were married.

I looked at Haruko. My wife. A weight seemed to fall off my shoulders, and I held her close in my arms. She squeezed me right back and then, cunningly, produced a fan from her sleeve to hide our faces as we kissed, right there in front of the entire family.

*****

I woke up to the feeling of Haruko’s lips pressed against mine. I opened my eyes, and there she was. _Sato _no Haruko. My wife. I smiled without conscious effort.

“Happy birthday, Hiro-kun,” she said with a grin. “I hope you don’t mind me waking you?”

In reply, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her to my chest. “Haru-chan…” I whispered. “Thank you. I didn’t want to miss a second of this day.”

I have known no happier moment since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] "Uncle," often used to address older men outside of one's family
> 
> [2] "Father"
> 
> [3] “There’s no demon like a big brother.”
> 
> \------------------------------
> 
> Well, what do you know? I got the next one out in just a week. Hope that makes up for last chapter's severe delay ^^; And this time, we really ARE close to the end! Thank you all for joining me on this long journey. 
> 
> Do let me know what you think of this chapter. Honestly, I'm not expecting everyone to be _entirely_ thrilled with recent developments, but... I'm hoping most people will at least be glad Hiro is finally getting a taste of happiness. He deserves it after everything he's been through and what still lies in store. 
> 
> See you all next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Let us just have one year for our lives to be peaceful, happy, and uncomplicated._

Renji and Karin, now Tosan and Kaasan, didn’t want to be the sort of parents who never give their young newlyweds any peace. As such, they gave us three full days to enjoy our honeymoon in privacy and acquaint ourselves with the new house. At the end of that time, though, Kaasan was eager to have us over for dinner and drop not-terribly-subtle hints about her desire for grandchildren. The most overt of these was something to the effect of, “You two both have such beautiful hair… Just think, Kyoto will soon see a third person with beautiful hair like yours. It _will_ be soon, won’t it Haru-chan?”

I was bad at thinking of ways to defend myself from these probing questions, but Haruko knew her mother well enough to pick up the slack. “If the gods see fit, it will happen,” she said. “Till then, I get to enjoy Hiro-kun’s beautiful locks all by myself.” That was her admirably effective strategy: say something just bordering on inappropriate, and Karin will think twice before prying further.

Clever as Haruko’s dodge was, however, it was only partially true. As I was to discover in the coming month, my wife’s libido was slightly… or a little more than slightly higher than mine. That was a little embarrassing to discover, but Haruko was very gracious and didn’t tease me about it… much… at least, not in front of anybody. Frankly, I was just grateful that she was willing to accept my age as an explanation, so I didn’t have to go into my history. Sex was just… a little distasteful for me in general, and it was only on occasion that I really felt the urge for it. More often, I just wanted have dinner and talk about art, literature, and history. Haruko enjoyed these discussions too, of course, but… she also wanted more.

Thankfully, I soon completed my training as Shiragawa-Tosan’s assistant book keeper, and my work began to pick up. With me working every day, Haru could accept more easily that I wasn’t always ‘in the mood’ after work. I actually really enjoyed working for Tosan. Being a book-keeper was similar, in many ways, to being a press copyist. Copying old books and scrolls by hand had been near enough my only solace in Yasha’s realm, so you could say that I was already trained for the job. The routine became soothing after a few weeks, and it felt good just to have a job again. I was actually earning a living by doing something humble and useful.

Better still, the job made it easier than ever to spend time with Keita. We often encountered each other on our ways to and from work, and we would talk along the way. If we had time later on, we would sometimes eat together. Kei lived with his parents and four younger siblings, so he seldom had the money even to go out for udon with me, but I was always welcome to eat dinner with him and his family.

I was endeared to Keita’s parents straight away. They were tofu makers, and Yasha had only ever brought it for me once that I can remember in my entire 6 years in the realm. It just doesn’t keep fresh long enough for travel. I had so missed its smooth, mouth filling texture and the brightness it added to a simple bowl of miso.

But the Inomata family could only sell so much tofu in one day, and with all but one of their five children old enough to lend a hand in the kitchen, they had more than enough labor to keep up with demand. That was why Keita, as eldest son, had been sent out to work for Shiragawa and take winter jobs at the mine rather than maintain the family business: they needed more money to be able to support a family of seven.

Thanks to Keita, they were fairly well off. They had separate bedrooms for the parents, the boys, and the girls, a wood-paneled fence around their yard, and (to my astonishment) a wood-block printed painting that I’d helped my father to produce. After I was presumed lost or dead in the wake of the fire, Shiragawa had sold it to Keita for a low price around the same time he started working in ojisan’s warehouse. Whenever I came to visit, Mama Inomata always had me sit where I could see it clearly during supper.

At first, Kei resisted my attempts to invite him to my place for supper. He was always able to cite some very valid excuse, but I couldn’t help suspecting some deeper reason for his reluctance.

Then out of the blue, Itsuki came to call with Keita in tow. They’d been good friends since they were children, apparently, and their houses were in adjacent neighborhoods. He confessed to her that he worried it wouldn’t’ be proper for him to have dinner with his employer’s daughter. Itsuki would have none of it, though, and she dragged him along to have dinner with us. My only concern was that Kei and Haru had only been vague acquaintances previously. I worried they might not get along because of their vastly different backgrounds and interests.

To my relief, though, they managed to find common ground on one subject: teasing _me_ mercilessly. Embarrassing? Certainly. But it was a small price to pay if it meant I could convince Kei to visit once in a while.

However, it was after one of these visits in early winter that I started to have nightmares again. About once a week, I had the recurring nightmare of Yasha hacking his way through Kyoto to find me. It became so routine that I started to recognize the dreams from the moment they began. Then I would pull myself awake, take a look at my wife sleeping peacefully beside me, and roll over. I could usually sleep the rest of the night through after that.

The nightmares took their, toll, though. Those reminders of Yasha exacerbated my distaste for sex, and I was always afraid to go for a walk the morning after a nightmare. Memories of Kyoto’s streets engulfed in flame and screams would sometimes surge forward while I was outside, and the cold would cut through every layer of clothing I had on to make me shiver.

About a month after New Year’s, I had the nightmare twice in one week, and I had to go to work in a state of terrible exhaustion. While at Shiragawa’s office near the docks, updating the ledger, I had another episode of enhanced hearing. Two men were talking in an alleyway two streets over. As was usually the case during these episodes, they were talking about me. One of them was talking about a dream he’d had the previous night in which I was really a woman, and he’d convinced me to come back to his place. He’d woken up just before “the good bit.” After some banter unrelated to his dreams, the episode fizzled out. I was safe. It was one of the tamer episodes, but still… the timing of it left me nauseous and unsettled.

It might have been these concurrent events that lead to a resurgence in my fear of strangers. I’d gotten so much better at being around people since my return to the world of the living, but after hearing those lewd cretins talking about me, I stopped going out for walks outside of my regular work hours. We were getting deeper into winter in any event, so I told Haruko that I just didn’t want to walk out in the cold, and she accepted this easily enough. Less easy to accept were the excuses I invented to avoid entertaining visitors. Haru knew something was wrong, and she tried to coax me out of hiding by saying things like, “Our friends miss you, Hiro-kun,” but I clung to my excuses (‘my stomach feels bad,’ ‘work was hard on me today,’ ‘I have the most terrible headache,’) no matter how flimsy. Once, I even shirked a visit from my best friend Keita in this manner, and I spent the rest of the night clutching my head and feeling like piece of shit for it.

After nearly two weeks, it was Itsuki of all people who brought an end to my funk.

I sat in the bedroom, sipping a cup of tea, ostensibly to ‘settle my stomach.’ It was Itsuki’s third visit since I’d started avoiding guests, and I’d come back here with complaints of stomach cramps. A few minutes into the visit, Haruko came inside and started to rub my back. “Hiro-kun,” she said with her softest bedside manner. “I know you’re not feeling well, but do you think you could come out for just a few minutes? Itsuki is saying she wants to offer you an apology.”

I was taken aback. I couldn’t fathom what Itsuki could want to apologize for. So of course, I agreed to see her, if only to settle whatever misunderstanding this way. When I came out, she did indeed look distraught. A few weeks prior, Itsuki had recovered sufficiently from her most recent birth to go out. So with her sister babysitting for her, she decided to indulge one of her favorite pastimes: cross-dressing. Haruko had mentioned Itsuki’s hobby a few times in passing, and I was curious to see what Itsuki looked like as a man. My imagination had quite deceived me.

Haruko and I were walking through the snowy market, and all of a sudden we were accosted by a greasy-looking middle-aged man with a potbelly, hairy arms, and a face of week-old stubble. With an oily leer, said to us, “My, my, what a gorgeous pair of sisters! Why don’t you girls let ojisan treat you to soba?” So saying, the man slapped his chubby palm against my hip and gave it a squeeze.

Terrified, I stumbled, took hold of Haruko’s wrist, and stammered something unintelligible. But Haruko just laughed and casually smacked the man’s arm aside, saying, “Stop scaring people, you old toad!” When I remained on edge, she leaned over and whispered, “Hiro-kun, it’s okay. That’s just Itsuki.”

Seeing how genuinely startled I’d been, Itsuki dropped the slimy wheedle at once and said in her normal voice, “Sorry, Hiroshi-dono. Should’ve warned you first.” My amazement at hearing a woman’s voice out of a face so expertly disguised as a grizzled man’s was enough to pull me out of my fear. I never even thought to hold her little prank against her.

But apparently, Itsuki had felt pretty guilty about it. Enough that she blamed herself for my reluctance to see her. So she came to beg my forgiveness and plead for me to see her again – both because she considered me a friend, and because her girls had been asking when ‘Hiro-oneesan’ was going to visit again.

In the odd way of things, I found it easier to talk to people after that. Like I just needed some affirmation that people really liked me as a person, and not just because I was ‘Sato the Beautiful.’ I was grateful to Itsuki for that. I resolved then not to let my anxiety about the past stop me from enjoying the society of those who were kind to me. 

In the meantime, however my nightmares were only getting worse. At first, I always woke quietly and went back to sleep without Haruko noticing. But as the weeks wore on, my fatigue grew, and it got harder and harder to wrench myself out of the dream. I started to thrash and squeal at the moment of waking, and Haru would be woken up by the noise. After the third time in one week, naturally she wanted to know what was frightening me so terribly, and I was compelled to lie to her. I said that I was having nightmares about the fire, and being unable to save my family from the blaze. This was believable.

To date, Renji-Tosan was still the only one who knew – even vaguely – the real story of my experience after Umi no Mura. And I had yet to tell _anyone _including Renji about the Elixir of Life, and the long lifespan I was to expect. I felt so guilty for hiding it from my wife. The guilt had started the first week after our marriage at the end of fall, and it had now had all winter to fester. Still I kept it hidden. Why?

I had my reasons… not a one of which was sufficient on its own, but together they always managed to still my tongue. For one, I didn’t think that anyone would believe me. Silly, isn’t it? Everything else about me might have supported the claim – especially the unnatural color of my eyes, since they were inextricably linked. Still, I feared that either I’d be called a liar, or people _would_ believe me and yet suspect me of deception regarding how I obtained my longevity. They’d think the _real _explanation had to be something more sinister.

How would I even go about explaining it to begin with? How was I to tell them that the demon who’d taken the lives of my family had lengthened my life to suit his fancy – to keep me as his prisoner for even longer? I’d sooner die than have all of Kyoto know of the dishonor I had endured. And if people came to me demanding to know the secret of the elixir, how would they react when I couldn’t provide them with answers?

Worse still, I knew that most people simply… wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand how it truly affected me – how I felt about it – no more than they understood how I felt about my appearance. Several people, Renji included, had called me, “_Sato the Beautiful_, the most beautiful person in all of Kyoto.” I hated the title. The ones who used it _thought _they were complimenting me, but in fact they were complimenting Yasha’s handiwork.

At times, I felt truly guilty for bemoaning my beauty and longevity, because they would be considered priceless gifts by so many other. I asked myself, if these qualities had been bestowed by anyone _other _than Yasha – say, by a benevolent god as the official story declared – would I still see them as a curse?

Speak or keep silent, people would find out sooner or later. The truth would become apparent when Haruko started to show signs of age and I didn’t. I would have to tell her, ideally before she began to figure it out on her own. I wasn’t ready yet, but I eventually resolved to tell her on the night of our first anniversary. Let us just have _one year _for our lives to be peaceful, happy, and uncomplicated.

That, it turns out, was asking too much.

Four months after our wedding – a full eight months since my release from the Underworld, I had the usual nightmare about Yasha destroying half the city to find me. By now, the nightmare had persisted for so long, the instances developed a continuity of their own. Even in my sleep, I felt a dead, heavy fatigue in all of my limbs, weighing down my running feet. Behind me, I heard him call out, “There you are!” and arose clawing at the air. Haruko jerked awake beside me, frightened half to death by the violent motion. Afterward, she stayed awake with me for almost an hour, rubbing my back until I could get back to sleep. This happened again the next night. And the next.

On the fourth night, I was too exhausted to wake up, even as Yasha caught up with me and pinned me to the ground. Crowing with triumph, he joyously raped me in the streets next to the warm corpse of a bystander he’d impaled on the head of his spear. Moaning in pain, quaking in terror, I eventually managed to pull myself awake with a gasp.

This time, I was quiet enough not to wake Haruko. She slept peacefully beside me, frowning in the adorable way she often did in her sleep. So I lay my head back on the pillow facing her, hoping that the sight of my wife’s pretty face would help me to sleep more soundly.

The very instant I was asleep, the nightmare returned. Once again, Yasha found me, and I ran from him with legs too weary to do aught but stumble. In no time, he caught me just as he’d done in the last instance… except, instead of a random bystander, it was Haruko who had fallen onto the ground beside me. Instead of killing her, Yasha made her watch while he took back what was his. She huddled there, petrified, while the demon ravaged me and gloated that my body still belonged to him after all this time.

Haruko called out to me while Yasha pinned me by the shoulders, his thrusts rocking my body beneath him. I sobbed, and Haruko shouted my name while Yasha thrust even harder.

Suddenly, I woke up to find Haruko leaning over me, calling my name and shaking my shoulders. “Hiro-kun! Hiro-kun, please wake up! It’s alright, Hiro-kun! Please wake up!”

As soon as I became sensible of my surroundings, I smacked her hands away. “Don’t touch me!” I snapped.

She drew back, stung. “Hiro-kun… It’s me. It’s Haruko.”

My heart ached at the broken sound in her voice. “I know…” I rolled over, turning my back on her. “I know… I’m sorry, I just… can’t be touched right now.”

There was a long pause before she answered. “Okay.” I heard the rustling as she settled back under the sheets. “I love you, Hiro-kun,” she whispered to my back. “Please… be okay.” When I didn’t reply, she eventually rolled over with her back to me.

Tentatively, I reached down and touched my erection, still slick with pre-ejaculate. A powerful temptation came on me to finish myself off now that I was awake. I immediately felt sick with myself, then lay my hands under my cheek and curled my legs up in bed.

When morning came, my erection had finally waned, but I’d hardly slept at all. I could barely eat that day. My concentration was shot. I made a conscious effort to treat Haruko kindly to make up for how I’d acted the previous night, but exhaustion made me feel grim and anti-social. At bed time, I tried to make love to my wife – not because I was really in the mood, but because I hoped it would prevent more nightmares to expend my lust in advance.

It was a disaster. Haruko managed to coax me to hardness without too much difficulty, and soon we were pressed close together, her fingers sliding through my hair as she loved to do. But then, thoughts of Yasha began to intrude. An image sprang to mind of the demon penetrating me from behind even while I was inside my wife. I fought to push the image aside. _No! I don’t want that. Don’t imagine that. I don’t want to think about that when I’m with my wife. I mustn’t cum from that when I’m making love to Haruko… _

After nearly an hour, I’d failed to cum, and I completely killed my erection. I felt humiliated. That wasn’t Haru’s fault, of course. On the contrary, she was as gracious as anyone could hope. As I lay there, curled up and miserable on the futon, she rubbed my shoulders and spoke to me softly. “It’s okay, Hiro-kun. All men go through this from time to time. Even Itsuki’s husband has had his share of bad nights, from what I’ve heard. It doesn’t make you any less of a man. It’s probably just because you haven’t been sleeping well – that’s all.”

She had no idea both how right and how not right she was.

By the time I fell asleep, there were only a few hours till sunrise. I had a dream of the first time Yasha raped me. This time, though, it took place on the streets of a burning Kyoto. When I woke up, I’d only had 3 hours of sleep. Dawn was just breaking, and Haru was still asleep. I was so hard it was painful, and I wanted to wrench myself out of my own, disgraceful flesh. I decided that 3 hours was long enough.

Without disturbing my wife, I got out of bed, got dressed, and went for a walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's here! Just as promised! 
> 
> Hope you all don't mind a shorter chapter than usual this week. This very nearly wound up getting fused into chapter 9, but I shifted around some house keeping so that the final two chapters should be more meaty and dynamic. Hope you all enjoy! We're so close now!
> 
> As ever, I love your comments and questions. I couldn't have made it this far without you all <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Seimei-sama! There’s a visitor here to see you!” _

The past five months had helped me to recover, at least physically, from my time in the Underworld. My skin had stubbornly resisted the sun’s efforts to darken it, but the exercise of long walks with my family had done me good. Where once I had been out of breath from walking half a mile, my stamina now allowed me to walk for several miles without rest.

This morning, I took full advantage of that. I had thrown on my heaviest kimono with an extra summer shirt underneath to help me bear the cold. Spring should have been closing in, and indeed it had been over two weeks since the last snowfall. Still, the sun seemed drowsy after its long winter slumber. Snow remained in damp clumps along every shadowed wrinkle on the landscape.

The glow of daylight blotting away the inky, night sky filled my head with that special, buzzing clarity one feels when rising in the early morning. The sky overhead was full of clouds, with only a sliver of naked sky a hand’s breadth wide at the horizon. As I wandered into the dense part of the woods, I knew that the sun would rise and pass out of sight before I emerged again. I would miss my chance to see it this day.

More lamentable than that, however, was that I had missed my chance to grab breakfast – or at the very least a satchel of dry nuts – before setting out on this trek. My lungs had the energy to carry me still further, but my stomach might only tolerate a few more minutes. At least my hands remained warm, once I’d pulled them into my sleeves and held them against my waist.

Then, I was drawn out of my thoughts by the smell of something sweet. Not an edible sweetness, but… fragrant, like perfume or incense. As I looked around for the source, I noticed a stone trail marker about a stone’s throw off the path. As I continued to search, I saw another trail marker an equal distance out from the first, and my eyes finally picked out the path running alongside them.

‘How completely perfect,’ I thought to myself, feeling loopy and flippant from exhaustion. ‘This diverting mystery will not only occupy my curiosity, but it provides the perfect event to end my wanderings. As soon as I’ve seen whatever’s at the end of this path, I’ll be in the perfect mood to go home.’ So I turned my feet onto this discreet path and began to follow it with my eyes open.

The thought did occur to me that I might be walking toward some private residence or religious compound, but I could always turn back before I actually began trespassing. The further I went, though, the broader and clearer the path became, and the more picturesque the environs. The trees were more widely spaced, the air seemed to fill my breath more fully. Eventually I came upon a great clearing where the fragrant smell was strongest, and I heard the peaceful tinkle of wind chimes.

Beyond a tori gate a little ways ahead, an elegant bridge crossed a brook whose gentle murmuring could scarce be heard in the stillness. Sound seemed oddly muted here, but for those wind chimes, as though nature itself meant to keep a hushed –

“Who are you, there?” came a piping voice off to my right.

My eyes darted about in search of the voice, lighting on a rustling bush an instant before something white and furry leapt out. I stumbled back, startled, but my jaws were clenched too tightly for me to scream. But before I could think to run away, I caught a flash of red at the tip of its tail… of _both _its tails! A kitsune!

The little thing was crouched in a threatening stance while it eyed me suspiciously, nose twitching. When I didn’t move, it crept a little nearer. “_Sniff, sniff_… An ayakashi? _Sniff, sniff_… No… a human. But your scent is so peculiar. What are you doing here?”

As I stammered, flustered by the sight of a talking kitsune, my ears caught the sound of soft footsteps. The kitsune noticed them as well and turned its gaze to a point behind me. “Yao Bikuni-sama! What good timing! Kohaku has found a stranger wandering in.”

I looked behind me and saw a tall woman in a white robe, holding an ornate blue staff, walking towards us from our side of the brook. Her raven hair was pulled elegantly behind her, and her icy blue eyes watched us both with soft attentiveness. “My, my,” she said in a gentle voice, smiling faintly. “Our guest has arrived sooner than expected.”

“Expected?” I repeated, probably too soft to be heard by anyone.

“Yao Bikuni-sama, you _know _this person?” asked the kitsune.

The woman, this Yao Bikuni, gave a smile that seemed sincere, but… was somehow too cold to be called inviting. “Not personally,” she said, walking closer until her feet were on the path with us. “I only knew that a person of renown would be visiting us today.” Her eyes looked me up and down. “Ahh… and now I see it is Sato no Hiroshi-san who graces us with his visit. Welcome.” She touched her collarbone and bowed halfway from the waist.

I winced a little. I’d grown used, in Kyoto, to being recognized by people I’d never met, but it never ceased to make me uncomfortable. I did my best to hide it, facing Yao Bikuni and bowing slightly lower than she had done. “Good morning. Please pardon my intrusion.”

The kitsune jumped a little. “Whoa! It _is_ him! It’s Sato the Beautiful!” He bowed to me by stretching his forepaws out in front of him in a pose strongly reminiscent of a stretching cat. “Pardon my suspicion! I was so distracted by your unusual scent, I didn’t even glance at your eyes until Yao Bikuni-sama mentioned it.”

I tried to wave the remark aside, feeling a blush spread up my cheeks. “Please, there’s no need to-”

“Hey!” called a brusque man’s voice. We all turned to see a man in a red kimono walking across the bridge toward us. “You shouldn’t yap so loud this early, doggy,” he called. “You’re lucky I was already awake, or you’d have gotten me up in a foul mood.”

At this, the kitsune crouched in an aggressive posture again, growling as his fur all stood on end. “Hiromasa-san, how many times must I tell you? I’m _not _a dog! Kohaku is a kitsune!”

Seeming entirely to disregard the fox’s objection, the man strode still forward, and I noticed that he had a bow and quiver slung over one shoulder. He turned an unfriendly look on Yao Bikuni a few steps before reaching us. “And you… Are you _still _skulking around the courtyard?”

She turned her gaze tolerantly toward him. “I was just performing a divination upstream. I came back when I learned that a visitor needing our assistance would be stopping by today.”

Hiromasa had already turned his attention to me before Yao Bikuni had finished. He was giving me a look I recognized, and had long ago come to loathe: the look of a man whose imaginings are too powerfully excited by my appearance. “I see,” he said, elevating his voice with bravado. He gave me a daring grin that I’m sure he _wanted _to seem easy and inviting. He spoke to the woman while holding my gaze with confidence. “And just who _is _this guest, Yao Bikuni? An old friend of yours, to go by the look of her.”

If the smile Yao Bikuni gave me had been lacking in warmth, it seemed almost _sultry_ compared to the look she gave to Hiromasa. If her eyes had been any further from the smile on her lips, she’d have had room for a second nose just below the first. “Hiromasa-san,” she said with glacial politeness, “need I remind you again that I am immortal? All of my ‘old friends’ have long since passed away.”

Hiromasa faltered only slightly before pressing on. “Anyway… You must have come here to look for help from Seimei, right?” He grinned roguishly and took a bold step forward so that I now had to look up to meet his eyes. It vexed me that my fixed eye-contact didn’t seem to dissuade him. “Well, Seimei tends to be pretty busy, and there’s no guarantee he’ll have time for you. Why don’t you tell me your troubles first, and we’ll see if I can help you.” He brought a fist proudly to his chest. “I’m Hiromasa, onmyoji of the Minamoto clan, and I’d be happy to assist.”

I held his gaze wordlessly for a few seconds, the word ‘onmyoji’ ringing in my head. Then, still facing Hiromasa, I looked to Yao Bikuni and asked, “Did he just say ‘Seimei’? As in Abe no Seimei, the onmyoji?”

She nodded. “That’s right. Just across this bridge is his courtyard.

“They’re both friends of Seimei’s,” the kitsune said, hopping closer. “And Kohaku is Seimei’s shikigami.”

Hiromasa shifted his weight to one hip in a gallant pose, then spoke up in an attempt to keep my attention on himself. “And who might you be, pretty lady?”

Here, I’d had enough. I tried to imitate the cold smile Yao Bikuni had given him, but I couldn’t quite pull it off. Then I took a step closer, saw his eyes brighten excitedly, and said, “My name is Sato no Hiroshi.”

Hiromasa nodded once, then stiffened almost imperceptibly. His expression froze. Yao Bikuni, now standing slightly behind him, contributed, “Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Hiromasa-san? His arrival made quite a stir in the capital a few months back. _Sato the Beautiful_, he’s been called.”

I saw Hiromasa’s Adam’s-apple bob as he swallowed and took a minute step back. “You are… a man, then…”

Before I could answer, Kohaku started cackling, rolling on his back with mirth. “Kehehehehe! Hiromasa, you’re so dumb!” it barked. “Kohaku knew right away from the smell it was a man. What a fool you are!”

Hiromasa ground his teeth at the laughing fox. “Shut it, doggy!”

Instead of getting angry, the kitsune laughed even louder. “I… I can’t even be mad, because now I know you can hardly tell human genders apart!”

The man’s eyes blazed wrathfully. “Why you little!”

“Please, you two,” Yao Bikuni said, raising her voice just slightly with the effect of commanding everyone’s attention immediately. “I would remind you that a guest is here. Let us put his needs above our own squabbles, hm?”

They looked at Yao Bikuni, then at each other, and swiftly sobered up. The kitsune rolled onto his feet and offered me a slight bow. “Pardon our rudeness, Hiroshi-san.”

Without looking my way, Hiromasa mumbled, “Sorry… So what’s this problem you need our help with?”

Thus put on the spot, I froze up. “Uh…” I looked at the ground under the weight of their collective stares. “I… I was actually just out for a pre-dawn stroll. I arrived here by chance.”

I could almost feel the male onmyoji twitch with irritation. “Huh?! You mean you were just ambling around and waltzed in here to waste our time? That’s-”

“Just a moment, Hiromasa-san,” said Yao Bikuni, knitting her brows with subdued urgency. To me she said, “You truly didn’t know where this was? You just… happened to come across it as you were walking? Nobody pointed you here?”

I was slightly intimidated by the gravity she seemed to lay on the question. “Um… Basically, yes.”

She looked sharply at her two companions. “This is more serious than I thought. There are powerful spells around the courtyard to divert the attention of potential loiterers. If he really made his way here by accident, he must have some very serious need to see Master Seimei.”

“Or there’s a weak spot in the perimeter,” Hiromasa muttered sourly.

“That, too, would represent a matter deserving Master Seimei’s attention,” Yao Bikuni answered.

Kohaku sprang forward, leading toward the bridge. “Right this way, then!” he called, checking to make sure we were following. “Seimei-sama and Kagura-sama were just sitting down to breakfast.”

So I followed my hosts across the bridge, their unsuspecting guest. While Kohaku and Hiromasa had their backs to me, I caught up to Yao Bikuni, tugged at her sleeve, and asked the question I’d been holding tucked against my cheek almost since Hiromasa’s entrance. “Are you really immortal?” I whispered.

Yao Bikuni gave me a sidelong glance. ‘Yes… I’m afraid so.”

I spoke, then, before I could stop to consider whether my next question was a good idea or not. “How long does it take to feel like a curse?”

She stopped and looked at me so abruptly that I flinched. Her expression somehow seemed both outraged and sympathetic at the same time. She stared at me for a long minute, by which time Hiromasa and Kohaku had noticed our immobility and halted to wait for us.

At last, the onmyoji woman said, “Less than four hundred years.” Her tone was as neutral as I’d yet heard it, but her expression had softened into something resembling pity. Feeling that I’d already taken more liberty than appropriate, I said no more and followed quietly.

A few barren trees with the tiniest of green buds spread their branches over us, and over the long, well-structured house from which the faint sound of cookery could be heard. I thought that we would be going into the house, but Kohaku led us right past it and around a dense cluster of young maples. Across the stretch of courtyard, I saw him.

Even from a distance, he was a remarkable figure. Abe no Seimei sat under a gazebo with a young girl of about 12. His hair was straight and silvery. It hung down to his waist, tied together at the very end with a white cord. He ate with tall-backed, contemplative dignity. Though my ability to sense spirits had never been very strong, even after my time in the Underworld, it was easy to sense the power in him. Somehow, it felt as though the very courtyard in which I stood was an extension of his being.

In fact, I was so focused on my observation of the man that, at first, I didn’t even notice the half-dozen animate paper dolls around him. They were man-shaped and about knee-height, but there was one no bigger than my hand on the roof of the gazebo, sweeping away dust with a broom made from dried weeds. The rest were similarly engaged in menial tasks. I saw one standing on the table refilling the onmyoji’s tea cup.

I did my best to take this in stride. After all, it was hardly the strangest sight I’d ever seen. Seimei and the girl spotted us as we approached, and the kitsune ran on ahead.

“Seimei-sama!” he yipped. “There’s a visitor here to see you!”

Seimei looked up and caught my eye. Even at a distance, I could see that his eyes were a pale, gray-blue. His stare, though brief, was clam and assessing. Somehow, it made me feel very small, but not intimidated.

Turning his attention back to his shikigami, Seimei asked, “And did our visitor happen to give you his name?”

Kohaku made an excited little hop. “Yes! He is the Sato no Hiroshi of whom so much talk was made not too long ago.”

“Sato no Hiroshi…” Seimei closed his eyes, consulting his memory. “The survivor of the Umi no Mura fire. One of the most beautiful men in Heian-Kyo.”

“Not that it’s important,” Hiromasa declared, trying to cut through the formalities. “By his own admission, he’s only here by accident.”

“Or rather, by chance,” said Yao Bikuni, taking a step forward. “His appearance coincides with my prediction. I saw that a renowned figure would visit us today.”

“I see…” Seimei glanced in my direction without quite meeting my eyes. “Sato-san,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried right over as he addressed me.

“Yes?” I stood up a little straighter.

Seimei indicated the table before him. “For you to be this far from the city at this hour, you must have begun quite early. If you have not breakfasted, you are welcome to join us.”

That reminded me of my hunger, and I heard my stomach growl as though in reply. “That’s very kind of you, Master… I hope it won’t be a bother.”

“Not at all.” He gave me a small hint of a smile. As I stepped forward, I was slightly startled by another paper doll that ran by my legs, holding aloft a fan and a tall master’s hat. Seimei laid the props at his side while the doll set down a cushion for me at the table.

As I took my seat, I heard Hiromasa yawn and stretch behind me. “Well, if you all have a handle on things here, I think I’ll head out and get some exercise.”

“Onii-chan,” the girl said, speaking for the first time. For a moment, I was reminded of my little sister by the term, and by the timbre of her voice. But that was where the comparison ended. My sister had been younger when last I saw her, and she would never have kept quiet for this long. 

Hiromasa stopped short at her address. “Kagura?”

“You haven’t eaten yet either,” she pointed out gently.

The brash man was forced to consider this before replying. “Thanks, but I’m… eating with a friend in a bit. I don’t want to ruin my appetite. Just give me a shout if that Sato person has something he needs me to shoot.” And then he was off, not waiting for a reply. In the pause that followed, a paper doll set a bowl of rice porridge sweetened with lychee syrup in front of me. Another poured me a cup of brown tea.

“Did something happen?” the girl, Kagura, asked the three of us.

Kohaku, now sitting at Seimei’s left side, snickered a little. “He’s upset because-”

“Seimei-san,” Yao Bikuni interrupted pointedly. “Would you mind terribly if I join you? I’ve no need for breakfast, but your tea smells especially delicious this morning.”

“Of course.” Seimei gestured for her to join us. Yao Bikuni took a seat at the table opposite me and laid her staff on the floor while a paper doll rushed back to the house to fetch a fourth cup for her.

Seimei and Kagura were already half finished with their breakfast by the time I started on mine, so I felt a slight pressure to eat more quickly to catch up. It was evident form the postures of those around me that they didn’t intend to ask any questions until I’d eaten, and that somehow seemed wrong to me. The fame of Abe no Seimei was such that even we back in Umi no Mura had heard of him. Now I was sitting at his table through some bizarre twist of fate. How had this even started again? I’d had a nightmare and… gone for a walk? Unbelievable.

There were still a few bites left in the bowl when I moved it back from me and bowed. “Thank you for the meal.”

Seimei nodded his acknowledgement, then picked up his onmyoji cap and placed it upon his head. He then took up his fan, and throughout the rest of the conversation he proceeded to twirl it and tap it thoughtfully against his palm at intervals. “Now,” he said, giving me his full attention. “How may I assist you?”

I suddenly realized that during breakfast, I _should _have been anticipating this question. All three of my hosts were waiting for an answer. Noticing my distress, Seimei added, “Perhaps you need help with the nightmares you’ve been having?”

That was an awe-inspiring shock. “How… how could you know that?”

He tapped the fan against his palm. “It’s no great feat to observe it. As I said before, it is quit early in the morning, and Sato no Hiroshi is known to be a resident of Kyoto, less than an hour’s brisk walk from here. Presumably, you woke in the small hours of the morning and chose not to return to sleep. Your fatigued silence and the dark rings under your eyes confirm that you have been troubled by restlessness for some time.”

It sounded so obvious once he said it. Neither of his companions offered any dispute to his deduction. I suddenly noticed that I was wringing my hair again and forced myself to stop. “Yes, Seimei-sama… if it’s possible, I would like the nightmares to stop.”

Seimei made a gesture to the group of paper dolls, and two of them went scurrying off to perform some errand for their master. The onmyoji returned his attention to me. “What can you tell me about these nightmares? When did they start?”

Nervously, I took another sip of tea, stalling my answer. “I guess… they started pretty soon after my arrival in Kyoto.” He didn’t speak, so I pressed on. “I only had them twice in the first month, but they started to happen more often after that – perhaps once a week. When I became engaged, they were less frequent. In fact, I think I only had one nightmare in the time between the betrothal and the wedding. Or… there might have been one nightmare on the eve of the ceremony, but that was something unrelated.”

Seimei hummed. “So it’s the same nightmare every time.”

I bit my lip. “Yes… though there are sometimes… slight variations.” The onmyoji made an interested hum, so I elaborated. “The last few weeks… they’ve been happening more often. And they’ve gotten worse. To the point that I’m afraid to go back to sleep.”

In the ensuing pause, Seimei’s paper dolls returned with what looked like a satchel of nuts, some slips of paper for making ofuda talismans, and some writing supplies. He set the satchel to one side, then prepared to mark one of the blank talismans. While he set up, I noticed that the girl was staring at me with an expression of pity that seemed disproportionate with my troubled sleep-schedule.

“Tell me,” Seimei said as he drew a little signet at the top of the slip. “These nightmares you’re having… Are they memories, or are they pure invention?”

That was a nerve-inducing question, though phrased as it was to let me answer vaguely. “A little of both, I guess.” I took a loud gulp of tea to sooth my suddenly parched mouth.

He spoke while still focused on his writing. “Is it to do more with the fire or… with the intervening years?”

I shivered as though the morning chill had crept beneath my kimono. “I suppose… the intervening time. But why should that matter?”

Seimei finished marking the talisman before answering, giving the ink a chance to dry. “It could be unimportant… but I’ve heard the story of what happened after you found your village destroyed. A benevolent spirit or lesser deity took care of you, so it’s said. It’s a perfectly plausible account. I’ve chanced to meet a few others with similar experience. Yet… your present state of mind gives me some doubt.”

“Seimei,” the girl interjected.

“Yes, Kagura?”

“Seimei… You see it too, don’t you?” There was profound sympathy in her voice.

The master onmyoji nodded gravely, looking at me. “Yes… I’ve sensed it too.”

I squirmed a little in my seat. “What?”

Kagura answered. “There is a deep… painful scar on your soul. It’s rough, jagged, and still not completely closed.” I touched my chest self-consciously, not knowing how to take the information. A scar? On my soul?

“And there’s more.” Seimei tapped his fan against his palm, then squeezed it tightly. “I think I had better ask you the obvious. How did your eyes _really _assume their color?”

Another shudder ran through me. I had to grip my cup with both hands so it wouldn’t clatter against the table. “It’s a very long story with… a lot of baggage.”

Seimei nodded. “I thought as much. I’m guessing that it lies at, or very near to, the crux of your whole story. I suspect that if you tell us that much, the rest of this knot may well come unraveled.”

Yao Bikuni gave me a smile that, while cool, seemed nonetheless kind. “The better we understand your problem, the better we will be able to help you.”

After a brief silence, Kagura added gently, “The three of us are no gossip-mongers. We ask only to be able to help. And each of us has borne too much personal shame to look down on you for what you tell us.” The other two nodded emphatically at this last point.

I traded my gaze between the three onmyoji for a minute. Indeed, I saw no hint of a judgmental temperament in any of them. Perhaps if I’d not been so sleep-deprived, my guard would have been higher, and I’d never have told them. But as it was, relenting to their helpful curiosity seemed easier than trying to politely retain my secrets.

“Alright,” I said at last, after draining the last of my tea. A paper doll was quick to refill my cup, and I resolved to keep my eyes on the steaming liquid so I wouldn’t have to see their expressions. “Living… or at least, frequenting the area of ocean near my home, there’s an evil sea-spirit known as Yasha.” I paused. Nobody said a word. I carried on. “He was the one who destroyed my village while I was on the road back from Kyoto. He did it because he… was lonely and jealous and spiteful. And evil. When I arrived a few days later, since he was still lonely, he… he forced me to…” I was trembling with revulsion at the memory.

“It’s alright,” Seimei offered levelly. “Take your time.”

I took a steadying breath. “He forced me to play a… really humiliating game with him… one that I lost… and the penalty for losing was that I… I had… I had to…” I clenched my eyes and forced the words through my teeth. “I had to become his bride…” There was no sound from any of my hosts. I was careful to keep my eyes fixed on my tea so as not to see the expressions any of them were making. “To that end… Yasha spirited me away to the Underworld where I would never be able to escape from him. For six years, I saw no living being but him. There, he…”

This was the difficult part. Shiragawa had perhaps guessed it, but I had never openly declared it to a single soul. “He…” My shoulders were hunched, and my stomach was tying itself up in knots. I knew that I would rather spill my guts onto the ground than say what I was about to say, and I only persevered by reminding myself that this was Abe no Seimei I was speaking to. “He violated me…” What started as a twitch in my lips soon became a spasm in my entire face. The tea in the mug I was clutching began to slosh. “He violated me… every day… every night… even on that first night, right in front of my parents’ remains, he… I’m so ashamed… he…”

“Hiroshi.” I looked up weakly at the sound of Seimei’s voice. Suddenly, he reached out and pressed his palm against my forehead. It surprised me, but my muscles were wound too tight to pull away. Our eyes locked. His lips formed a word that my ears ignored.

All at once, the tension fell away. My shoulders slumped, my face relaxed, my stomach untwisted itself, and my brain no longer felt like it was cooking in its own fluid. It almost reminded me of Yasha’s acupuncture technique. “What was that?” I asked with a nonchalance that surprised even me.

“A spell to disperse some of the miasma built up inside of you.” Seimei said simply. “A very temporary solution, but it should help, if you wish to go on.” I caught his meaning at once. For a just a little while, my spirit felt so clam and detached that I could talk about anything. I could still keep silent if I wished, but I decided to keep going while I had the momentum.

“Yasha violated me,” I repeated, dropping my eyes once again to my tea and fiddling with the cup while I spoke dispassionately. “He gave me shelter, clothed me, fed me, brought me books, baubles and writing materials so I wouldn’t get bored, and in return he expected me to play the part of his good little wife. He mocked me, and he seemed sadistically enthralled with making me submit to him in the most degrading ways possible… He even forced me to eat boar flesh. And without my knowledge, he made subtle changes to my body to make me more… womanly… more to his taste.

“Eventually, I guess he decided he had… grown attached, and he didn’t want to lose me. So he tricked me into drinking a potion of longevity.” At this, I heard Yao Bikuni produce a very soft hum of understanding, but I didn’t look up. “That potion, which he called the Elixir of Life, gave me another 200 years to live, and ensured that I would not age in all that time. As a side-effect… my eyes turned this color – the same color as the potion itself. Ironically, this was… part of his attempts to woo me.

“Yasha wanted me to fall in love with him. He tried everything, from threats to extravagant gifts, to make me give my heart to him. But I refused. I fought him all I could, swearing that I would never let myself fall in love with my family’s murderer. Yet… I was so lonely… so hopeless… Eventually, after years of cauterizing my heart away from the only person in the world who sought to comfort me, I fell into a state of emotional deadness. My memories became a cold, thoughtless blur until the day Yasha let me go. I just… woke up one day after a fight, and I was on a merchant ship bound for Kyoto. In the letter he left me, he says he liberated me out of remorse, but… I still don’t trust him. I don’t trust… my freedom. The recurring nightmare I’ve been having is that he comes to Kyoto to reclaim me.

“Worst of all… my body is still stained by his touch. It responds to those nightmares – and even memories – of him violating me as though I were… waiting for it. Every now and then, I have these… episodes of enhanced hearing. It never lasts more than a minute or two, but when it comes, I can pick out specific voices in a crowd and hear them as though they were whispering into my ear… like Yasha was able to do. But whenever it happens, I can’t make it stop until it’s run its course. So I’ve heard men in the city mistaking me for a woman and saying lewd things about me. And my body responds… and I can’t help it. I’m finally free, but I’m so twisted up…” By now, Seimei’s spell had pretty much worn out, but only a few tears fell from my eyes. I had gotten through the worst of the account, and I was too close to the end to stop now. “I don’t… know how I can endure another 250 years… or longer… of this humiliation. If… if I could only have my face made the way it was before, no one would mistake me for a woman. I could pass inconspicuously, and this would be… so much easier to endure.”

A long, long silence followed. It must have been well into morning now, but all was overcast and gloomy. The ethereal hum of wind chimes continued to toll, sparing us some of the weight of dead silence.

“Hiroshi-kun” Kagura said at last. “I’m... truly sorry for everything you’ve had to endure. I hope we can help you… at least enough to make up for asking you to dredge all this up.” I nodded mutely, not meeting her eye.

“It’s… so horrible…” To my right, Kohaku was sitting all hunched up on his haunches, trembling with fury and sadness. “That… that may be the most terrible thing Kohaku has…” The kitsune trailed off, growling to itself. Then all at once, he sprang up with defiant bark and turned to face the master onmyoji. “Seimei-sama! Let’s call back Hiromasa and have him go after this Yasha villain! Just letting him go is hardly sufficient recompense for all that Hiroshi-san has had to endure! I say we should hunt him down and destroy him for his heinous crimes!” Kohaku turned back to me. “Don’t you worry, Hiroshi-san! Hiromasa may act like a dimwit, but he’s actually a very powerful onmyoji from the Minamoto clan! With a few of Seimei-sama’s shikigami, he’ll be able to bring that fiend to justice!”

“Kohaku,” Seimei said calmly.

The kitsune looked up at him. “Seimei-sama, we have to! Kohaku will hardly be able to sleep knowing that such a reprehensible character is at large!”

“I know, Kohaku,” said the onmyoji. “But that is not, in itself, the reason Sato-san came to us today. Let us see to his more immediate needs before we start making plans for revenge.” His cool eyes looked up at me. “Assuming revenge is on his mind.”

Kohaku looked at me over his shoulder. “It must be… isn’t it?”

I looked away. “I… I haven’t really decided. I gave up on thoughts of revenge back in the Underworld, after several failed attempts to kill him myself.”

Seimei nodded. “Let’s carry on, then, and return to this last of all. Concerning the potion and your extended lifespan… Is there anything else you can tell me?”

I thought back to all Yasha had told me on my 20th birthday. “Not a lot… Yasha said it was called ‘the Elixir of Life,’ and that the ingredients for it are both rare and dangerous to come by. I also know that he paid somebody else to prepare it.”

“Do you know who it was? Did he happen to mention any of the ingredients he collected?” Seimei asked. I shook my head. Seimei mused for a moment. “And your face… your skin… your hair… you hinted that Yasha had a hand in all of these as well.”

I nodded. ‘He used potions to change my appearance. I think he bought them from the same source, but I’m not sure. I only learned of them from the letter he wrote when returning me to the land of the living.”

Seimei mused over this at length, brow crinkled in concentration while his fan tapped away at his palm. At last, he opened his eyes sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can undo any of the changes to your appearance.”

I was disappointed, but not heartbroken. I hadn’t let myself get my hopes up to begin with. “There’s no dispel ritual for it?”

“It would have been that simple if Yasha had used incantations to change your appearance,” Seimei explained. “Instead, he used potions. In other words, he didn’t just put a magical mask of beauty over your face, but actually changed your body’s structure. It’s a dangerous thing to do, and it’s fortunate that it didn’t seriously harm or disfigure you. All I can do now is use spells to hide your face behind a mask of homeliness. But since your beauty is so renowned, it wouldn’t fool many people, and it would be prone to breaking at inopportune times. That would be sure to frighten people, and you could wind up in danger as a result. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright… Besides,” I added with bitter wryness, “I must sound very conceited in the first place, moaning like this. ‘Woe is me, _afflicted_ with unrivaled beauty.’” Nobody laughed.

“It’s true,” said Yao Bikuni with perfect earnestness. “One person’s blessing is another’s curse.” There was an introspective look in her eyes.

“However, there _is _something I can do about your nightmares,” Seimei said. He picked up the ofuda talisman, the ink having dried, rolled it up into a tube, and slipped it into the satchel before handing it to me.

I opened it a little and peered inside. “Almonds?”

“Dried apricot seeds,” the onmyoji explained. “Keep that in your bedroom every night. It will attract a benevolent spirit who eats people’s nightmares. Then you should be able to sleep peacefully.”

Hope, gratitude, and relief welled up and mingled in my chest. I bowed low where I sat. “Thank you so much, Seimei-sama.”

He smiled and inclined his head. “Now, for this issue with your bouts of enhanced hearing…” He tapped his fan a few times. “I confess, I haven’t encountered many cases like this. Under other circumstances, I’d take it as a sign of demonic possession, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here… Kagura, do you think it could be related to…”

The girl scooted a little closer, and her eyes scrutinized me up and down. “It’s possible,” she said softly. Then she nodded with greater confidence. “Yes, for sure. There are splinters of the other one’s soul lodged in his.”

That gave me a shock. “Splinters?”

Seimei nodded. “It’s not difficult for splinters – or shards – of a soul to flake off from the main mass. Especially for spirits, and especially in moments of great stress or danger. Your soul was… vulnerable because of repeated trauma, so a splinter would have been able to make its way into the wound while it was still fresh.”

“And with that splinter,” Kagura picked up, “a small trace of his power would be transferred to you. It would then flare up at random, either reacting to the energy around you, or at a time when Yasha is using a lot of his energy elsewhere.”

I reflected on the episodes I’d experienced. Come to think of it, it almost always happened when somebody nearby was speaking lustfully about me. Just the sort of thing that would have made Yasha livid if he’d been around to see it. “Can you get it out?” I asked of the three onmyoji collectively.

There was a pause before Seimei answered. “Not ourselves. The only time we’ve dealt with this, it was to have a shard extracted from Kagura’s soul.”

“But that wasn’t lodged as deeply or messily as this one,” Kagura said. “There’s no guarantee she’d be able to do it. And even if she _could_… it would almost certainly be painful. Excruciating. You… might not be the same afterward.”

I shivered. _As if I didn’t have enough to deal with. _“I see…”

As I began to turn away, though, Kagura reached out and held both my shoulders firm. For a time, her eyes continued to scrutinize me, glittering with the light of unseen shapes. Finally, she smiled. “But I don’t think you have anything to worry about. For all the damage it’s sustained, your soul is still remarkably strong. Every part of it not touched by the scar is still clean, pure, and unquestionably human. I bet that once your nightmares go away and give you time to heal, things will get better. Just keep living fully, and your soul may even be able to neutralize the splinter Yasha left in it.”

That was… rather better news than I’d hoped for. The fact that Yasha held sway over me even in his absence had been a plague to my waking as well as my sleeping mind. As for ‘living fully’… I had a family, good friends, a wife, and a trade. I should already be living fully, right? Except that… except…

‘_It will be soon, won’t it?_’

I swiftly hid my misgivings behind a grateful smile. “Thank you, Kagura-san.”

She nodded and sat back, but I’m honestly not sure if she was fooled or not. Probably not.

“Now,” said Seimei, an edge creeping into his voice. “We turn at last to the matter of this Yasha, responsible for at least a thousand wanton murders in addition to his crimes against you personally. I can dispatch a few shikigami to investigate the waters around Umi no Mura and try to track him down, and I know Hiromasa would relish the fight.”

“And if you have anything of his,” Yao Bikuni added, “I can use my divination to find him even faster. Perhaps you still have that letter you mentioned? Though… perhaps you chose not to hold onto it.”

I paused for an awkwardly long time before replying. “I did. It’s at home.”

Yao Bikuni nodded. “Shall I go with you to fetch it?”

A shorter pause. “No.”

“You will bring it back here in your own time?” Seimei asked.

This time, I paused for so long that Kohaku nudged at my knee to prompt me. Finally, I came to a decision. “I don’t want Yasha hunted down.”

All of them were surprised, and Kohaku looked simply aghast. He almost leapt onto my knee in agitation, his tails poking out nearly straight. “But Hiroshi-san! Yasha… that demon… Wasn’t everything you told us true? Why wouldn’t you want him brought to justice?”

“Because I believe justice has already been brought – and is _being _brought to him.” That earned some surprised looks. So while I still had their attention, I elaborated, “The last time I saw him, Yasha was heartbroken and nearly prostrate with sobs. Then, in his letter, he wrote at length about the depths of his remorse. He said he felt ‘torn apart’ by his guilt.”

“And you believe him?” asked Kohaku, amazed.

“I can’t _not _believe him,” I said. “Yasha kept me as his prisoner for six years, and my unwillingness never seemed like an obstacle for him. What other explanation can there be for his sudden reversal?” I looked around at each face in turn, then down at my hands. “That very question has haunted me for many a sleepless night since I was set at liberty. To this day, no other explanation makes sense. I must accept that he truly repents… and that he loves me.”

Out of the heavy silence, Kagura spoke. “Does that mean… you’ve decided to forgive him?”

“No, Kagura,” said Yao Bikuni. There was grim comprehension in her eyes.

“No,” I said, holding her gaze. “If Yasha’s change of heart was true, as I believe it to be, then his conscience is already punishing him… In fact, it’s _tormenting _him. Death would be merciful, now. Death would release him from his punishment.” I clenched my fists upon the table. “I want him to suffer in guilt for at least as long as I’m alive. I want to close my eyes for the last time on a world where Yasha still moans in agony.”

For a time, it was so still in the courtyard that even the wind did not intrude. The three onmyoji looked at me, each with a different expression, and I could read none of them. Then, so soft as to be almost an echo, a wind chime rang a moment before Seimei spoke.

“I understand.” He sounded as cool and determined as ever. “Of course you are under no obligation to help us track him down. We can demand nothing from you. However…” His tone became at once grim and apologetic. “I cannot honor your wish in its entirety. Terrible as they were, Yasha’s crimes against you are not the only ones he has committed. There are those living now in Kyoto who have also lost family to his callousness and deserve justice. With the new information you’ve provided, it is my duty as an onmyoji to launch an investigation to track this demon down, and vanquish him if possible.”

I grimaced, but there seemed little point trying to fight him in this. “I suppose it can’t be helped… very well. So be it.”

Seimei nodded. “Is there any other way in which we can assist you?”

I looked out at the patches of gray sky visible through the barren branches. Tucking the satchel into the sash of my kimono, I said, “Morning rose some time ago, and my wife will be waking up soon if she hasn’t already.” Just as I was about to bow, a thought struck me. “Um… Do I owe you a fee for your services today?”

Here, a hint of a smile twitched the corners of the onmyoji’s lips. “My patron and benefactor, his Majesty the Emperor, pays for my living expenses on behalf of all his subjects. You owe me nothing.”

I bowed low. “My most humble thanks, onmyoji Abe no Seimei.”

He inclined his head in turn. “Fare thee well… and pleasant dreams to you.”

The kitsune leapt up as I rose to my feet. “Kohaku will escort you to the edge of the courtyard.”

I stepped out of the gazebo after him, then stopped in my tracks. There was still one question on my mind, and this was my last chance to ask it. “Yao Bikuni-sama,” I said, turning around. “Could I have a word with you? In private?”

She was the only one who didn’t look at least mildly surprised by my request. Collected as ever, she picked up her staff and stood. “Of course. I’ll walk you back to the main road.”

I looked back to Kohaku. Thankfully, the kitsune appeared more perplexed than put out as his glance flicked between the two of us. “My apologies, Kohaku,” I said. “I hope you won’t mind? It’s just…”

His ears twitched. “No, not at all! Farewell, Hiroshi-san. I hope you come back to visit us again soon!” With that, he bounded back to Seimei’s side while Yao Bikuni escorted me toward the bridge.

It’s a good thing that the courtyard was so peaceful and fragrant. Without its relaxing influence, it’s doubtful I’d have had the courage to speak plainly to Yao Bikuni. It would be going too far to describe her as ‘frigid,’ but there was a coldness to the seer that her impeccable politeness only seemed to accentuate. On the other hand, maybe that’s part of why I felt like I could talk to her. Like a snow-capped mountain, I couldn’t imagine saying anything that would truly shock or disgust her.

We stopped at the further extremity of the bridge, just before the red tori gate, and Yao Bikuni turned to me. “What is it you want to ask me, Sato-san?”

I tried to swallow, though dry of mouth. If my words had been made of lead, that might have explained why my tongue felt so heavy just then. “How… long have you been immortal, if it’s alright to ask?” I started, just as a warmup.

She looked away for a while as she thought back. “I think… roughly a millennia.”

“A millennia,” I breathed in wonder.

“Roughly,” she repeated. “I stopped keeping count a long time ago. There was no advantage to it.” I found it oddly consoling how she was able to talk about it so easily. Or maybe consoling isn’t the right word…

With a gulp, I met her eyes and gave voice to my real question. I pronounced each word as carefully as if I were setting tea cups on a table. “Do you think I should kill myself?” An instant later, the words seemed to whip back like a tree branch and slap me in the face. I felt nauseatingly ashamed for asking.

But Yao Bikuni didn’t reproach me. In fact, at first, she hardly seemed to react. She held my gaze even as my face turned red, and my skin was coated in humiliated sweat despite the cold. Gradually, I began to read some hints of emotion in her face. The onmyoji appeared contemplative and sympathetic at once. She was silent, not out of reproach, but because she intended to take my question seriously.

“How old are you, Sato-san?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Twenty-six,” I answered.

She hummed thoughtfully. Her fingers drummed along the staff that she held. “For myself… it took centuries of death and heartache before I truly began to resent my life…” She trailed off, and her gaze became at once deeply penetrating and profoundly gentle. For a while, she closed her eyes in thought. When she opened them again, she started again from a new angle.

“Sato-san… Do you know that Seimei-san has vowed to find a way to kill me?”

I blinked. “No… I didn’t.”

“He made that vow on the day that we met. That was only a short time ago… but when he made that vow, at my request, my heart had long since gone cold. I am old, Sato-san… so…” I felt a flash of sympathetic fatigue in my chest. “So very old… Older than any mortal has a right to be. You were very perceptive to declare my immortality a curse. Almost nothing remains of the woman I was in my youth except my face. It’s enough to make anyone long for death. And yet…”

She trailed off again, but this time she was smiling introspectively. “Centuries after I thought all my emotions had gone dead, Seimei-san and the others managed to revive those old feelings. The warmth and friendship they’ve given me is no less sweet for the time it took me to find it. And though I still long to break the curse of my immortality, I still consider it a blessing to have met them.”

Another thoughtful pause stretched out between us, eventually broken by a spontaneous burst of laughter from Yao Bikuni. The sight of Seimei’s animate paper dolls had surprised me less than that cold woman’s warm, delighted laughter. Somehow, it didn’t synch up with the rest of her cold, poised bearing, and yet it seemed so genuinely… human.

Coming down from her laughter, she met my eyes with real tenderness. “Sato-san… Your fate is your own to decide. For my part, with my aged perspective, I would not be unhappy to trade my lot for yours. Humans are not meant to live forever, and thus I seek an end to my life. But were I in your place, with only two or three hundred years to live, I would not hasten to bring my life to an end. For you to come to an end now, when you are still young even by the standard of other humans, would be a tragedy.”

Gently, she reached out and stroked the top of my head with the air of a doting grandmother. “Your time is still limited… Remind yourself of that, and perhaps life will not be so hard to endure. The way I see it, you have just enough time to get some real enjoyment out of life. It won’t always be easy, and you will still know heartaches in the future… but I foresee happiness in store for you as well. Happiness and love, many times over.”

By the time she finished, my heart was aching with pain of the most cathartic gratitude. I wiped away a few tears that had slipped out during Yao Bikuni’s speech. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” the onmyoji said, giving my head a last, affectionate rub. “Tell you what… If you ever need advice on what to expect as you age, come and see me again.”

I nodded, smiling. “Alright.”

“Just don’t wait too long. Remember…” She grinned with a hint of laughter. “If Seimei-san succeeds, you may just outlive me, Sato-san. Come and visit me while we still have the chance.”

A helpless laugh escaped me. “I will… Thank you, Yao Bikuni-sama.”

“Now hurry home, Sato-san. Pleasant dreams.”

When I arrived home, my legs were exhausted. It was yet several hours before noon, and Haruko had been worrying herself sick at my unexplained absence. I came home to find her getting dressed to go ask her parents to help her look for me. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of me. I recognized a little of her mother in her, then.

Haru started by punching me rather uncomfortably in the chest, then clutched my kimono in her hands and rubbed her face against it until she had herself under control. “You inconsiderate bastard!” she snapped, face still pressed to my chest. “I didn’t know where you were.”   
“Sorry,” I said, rubbing between her shoulders. I was too touched by her concern to be properly guilty as I should have been.

“How hard would it have been to write me a note?” She lifted her head to stare accusingly at me, and it was impossible not to find the expression endearing.

“You’re right. I should have. I will next time. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have been reading this series knowing nothing of the source material.... surprise :D   
Wouldn't you know, I agonized for _months_ about whether or not I was going to even write this chapter. In the end, I'm glad I did. The story can stand on its own without it, but I feel that it adds support to the narrative in a lot of ways. 
> 
> It's the penultimate chapter everybody! We're almost home! Just one more week and we're gonna wrap this up! I hope you're as excited as I am. 
> 
> Any thoughts/questions before we finish? Let me know.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Late summer saw the coming of my wife’s 23rd birthday._
> 
> The final chapter of The Beautiful Beast

Seimei’s cure for my nightmares worked just as well as I could have hoped. After I got home and had placated Haru’s fears, I placed the satchel of dried apricot seeds in my trunk along with the rest of my belongings. The usual nightmare began that same night. I was running through the hot streets of Kyoto as I felt the heat of fire and heard Yasha’s voice drawing closer, but then I stumbled through a door that was – for some reason – stretched across the street. It led into my bedroom, and the door slid shut of itself as I landed on my face upon the cool tatami mats. When I looked behind me, there was a strange, pink boar with an overlong snout eating the entire door from right to left, leaving only blank wall behind.

Apparently noticing my attention, the pig looked over its shoulder and snorted self-consciously. Its watery eyes blinked at me once, and I woke up with neither jolt nor a cry. Haruko was fast asleep beside me. Fuzzy with weariness, I wrapped my arms around her and went back to sleep. In the morning, I felt as happy and well-rested as I had on our honeymoon. 

Nearly everything got better after that. Sleeping better meant that I was able to pay more attention to Haruko, and I was more present and alert during our visits with friends. Everyone, from Keita to Karin, seemed to notice my improved mood. Tosan remarked on what a good job I was doing at work.

I had a one more episode of enhanced hearing in the coming months. It happened while I was in the central market with Haruko, shortly after my visit with Seimei. Several of the voices talked exhaustively about how beautiful I was, and one or two men lamented the fact that I had been born a man,. Altogether, though, it was all rather tame, and it couldn’t have lasted a full minute before it fizzled out. After three months without a repeat of the incident, I began to hope that my soul had really neutralized the splinter of Yasha’s soul, as Kagura had speculated.

Still… things weren’t perfect.

In the first place, even though I was no longer having dreams about Yasha, I still had intrusive thoughts and memories about him at inopportune moments – especially when Haruko and I were making love. I tried to soldier through regardless. I tried to rationalize to myself that I was just appropriating the beast’s techniques and using them to pleasure my wife. Once or twice, I even went so far as to say something characteristic of Yasha’s dirty-talk to Haruko – to great effect. But I always felt slightly sick with myself after doing so. I simply couldn’t scrape the demon’s memory off the techniques.

Consequently, my desire for sex waned quickly in spite of my healthy sleep schedule. If I’m being completely honest, though… that was less than half of the reason. After speaking to Yao Bikuni, I anxiously dreaded the day Haruko would conceive our first child. I feel despicable for saying it, but I didn’t want children of my own. It’s not that I didn’t feel ready – I didn’t want them. Period.

At a glance, there was every reason why I should. Like Renji said, as Sato no Yuki’s sole surviving heir, it was my duty to preserve the family line. What’s more, having a child with my legitimate wife would pulverize whatever vestiges of my ‘marriage’ to Yasha remained.

However, I knew that the child would not have the extended life that was granted to me. A day would come when my child would outgrow me, then continue aging, and eventually die. My child’s children would grow older, bear children of their own, age, and die, and I would still appear as young as I did now.

In my worst moments, I regretted ever marrying Shiragawa no Haruko. It had been too hasty. In trying to move on, I’d moved too fast. I thought that marriage to someone I loved (for I _did _love Haruko) would let me bury my past, but that past was a part of me. The simple fact was that, long before Haruko died of old age, the secret of my youth would be discovered. I’d likely be branded a sorcerer and forced to flee Kyoto, and I’d count myself lucky if my family escaped implication. So I would have to leave them before any of that happened. And any children she’d borne by then would curse me as the father who abandoned them.

_Why didn’t I consider this before agreeing to marry her?” _

Well… truthfully, most of it had occurred to me. I just didn’t _let _myself consider it all seriously. Now I continued to put off telling her, like the coward I was. At some point, to salve my own conscience, I made myself the promise that I would tell her on our anniversary. I just had to try not to get her pregnant until then.

In the meantime, Haruko…

I hated myself for what I was doing to her. All the more because she was so gracious about it. I lost track of all the lies and excuses I gave her. I know she wasn’t fooled by half of them – she was too intelligent for that – but she knew that I was sensitive from the traumas I’d endured and didn’t want to push me. So she accepted my excuses with a patient smile and a caress, so out of keeping with her strong will and independent spirit. She always said she didn’t take it personally, but…

A woman’s husband doesn’t want to give her children, and he’s reluctant even to go to bed with her. Even if she knows there to be a rational explanation, how long could any woman endure this and not see it as a tacit criticism of her womanhood?

When not occupied with such worries, however, my life was happy. During the cherry blossom watching festival, at my request, Renji extended a personal invitation to both the Inomata[1] and the Matsuda[2] families to join us at the Shiragawa picnic. It made for an enormous crowd, and I’d never seen so many children in once place, but it was the most fun I’d ever had. By then, the Kyoto community at large had fairly well acclimated to my presence, and I wasn’t such a spectacle. I was just one of the crowd – albeit one of its prettier members, and it was the closest I came to feeling normal among people. After that, it was much easier to be at my ease talking to people.

Late summer saw the coming of my wife’s 23rd birthday. Haruko was fond of going to public baths. At least two or three times every month, she would get together with Itsuki and anyone else who could be persuaded, and they went out for ‘bath night.’ She hadn’t invited me since the second month of our marriage after about my fifth or sixth refusal. Renji had made sure our house had both its own well and its own wood-burning bath, so we could always bathe at home. Naturally, I preferred this to letting stranger’s see my pale, hairless body.

However, I’d been in a rather light-hearted mood in general that week, and this of all days seemed like a time to indulge Haru-chan’s caprices. I accepted. After all, I could still remember how much fun it had been to go with my own friends to the onsen back in Umi no Mura. It was the perfect day for it, too; it had rained heavily all morning only to clear up for a bright and cloudless afternoon.

Keita couldn’t come, unfortunately. Both of his younger brothers were sick, and he had to stay home to help take care of them. Itsuki had been too busy with her new son to come for a few months, but her mother was babysitting that night. She also brought her husband Suirou along. I’d met Matsuda no Suirou on a few occasions, but I couldn’t say that I knew him very well. To be honest, I didn’t especially like him; he always struck me as slow-witted and petulant. Despite being one of the city’s better cart-wrights, he never seemed to have as much money as he ought to. Still, I didn’t hate him. Perhaps he’d turn out not to be so bad if given the chance.

Kyoto’s bathhouse was a lot bigger than my village’s onsen had been, but it still struck me as being on the crowded side. We paired off by gender to scrub down before getting in. This seemed like the biggest sign of my progress so far; Suirou’s thin, calloused fingers were certainly unfamiliar as he scrubbed my back, but I didn’t feel unduly anxious. His rough hands moved with quick efficiency, and we even managed to make some small talk of our own – shallow compared to our wives’ companionable banter, but it was something. By the time I’d finished my turn scrubbing his weary back, a lot of our unfamiliarity seemed relieved. He even told me that I was much gentler and more soothing than Itsuki.

Inside, the large communal bath was an oddly familiar sight. Unlike in Umi no Mura, this bath was off-limits to those under the age of 12 (for health reasons, apparently), but the sight of unclothed people of all ages huddled in the steaming water felt like a true ‘return to community.’ Parents, teenagers, aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers – all of them shared in the skinship of this spirit-cleansing bath.

As always, my hair and eyes caught attention. There was a small flurry of points and stares when we first arrived, but it died down before too long. Like always, I was just one of the crowd at the end of the day, and people didn’t want to disrespect the peace by staring longer than appropriate.

By sheer coincidence, we ran into Haruko’s grandmother – Renji’s mother – while we were there, and we stopped by to visit her a while. I adored Shiragawa-baachan; she was right up there with Itsuki as one of the funniest women I knew. In fact, one of the first things she did after we exchanged greetings was turn to Itsuki and say, “Well, I’m surprised to see you out of drag, Tsuki-chan. Is your boy not weened yet?” Haruko tried to reproach her, but she was laughing as hard as the rest of us.

After that, Haruko and Itsuki saw some of their younger friends a ways off, and Suirou noticed some of his drinking buddies toward the other end of the bath. So after some quick deliberation, we split up, and Haruko encouraged me to go have some ‘male bonding’ with Suirou’s other friends. I was a little intimidated, since most of his friends were older than me, but there was at least one guy there who couldn’t have been much older than 18 or 20. So I agreed and waded over to join them. There were about ten altogether, with Suirou and me making twelve. They were a mixture of fishers and tradesmen for the most part, with one notable exception.

The last one introduced to me was the one I noticed first. He was a very tall, handsome man, only a few years older than me. The portion of his torso sitting above the water was muscular and tightly built.

“And this,” Suirou said, with subdued pride in his voice, “is another figure seldom seen at the bathhouse: the samurai Oda no Tetsuo. He’s just returned from mission and is taking a vacation.”

A samurai… I’d never actually met one in person before. He was an impressive figure, and he wore a broad grin as we were introduced. “I heard of _‘Sato the Beautiful’_ last time I was in Kyoto,” he said, his voice bold and confident. “I’m glad to have the chance to finally meet you.”

I didn’t allow myself to meet his gaze. Privately, I wished that particular epithet would just disappear. “A pleasure meeting you, Oda-sama.”

After a second, the samurai reached out and rested his broad hand on the back of my neck. With an easy pull, he drew my body toward him, gliding through the water until I found myself sitting on the rock shelf beside him. My heart leapt fearfully, but Oda just laughed good-naturedly, jostling my shoulders. “Hey, no need to be so formal! This is a bathhouse – we’re all friends. You can just call me Tetsuo.”

I looked around at the other men in the group, but none of them seemed to find anything untoward about his behavior. “As you say… but you’re the first samurai I’ve met, and it’s… an anxious experience.” I smiled as best I could. “Would ‘Tetsuo-dono’ be alright?”

He laughed boisterously, jostling my shoulders. “Alright, if that’s what make’s ya happy. But where are you from that you’ve never met a samurai before?”

One of his companions hastily broke in with a whisper. “Don’t you remember, Tetsuo-san? He’s from Umi no Mura.”

“Remember – the fire?” Suirou contributed, matching the other man’s discreet tone.

Tetsuo nodded. “Ah, that’s right. The one from a few years ago. We thought for the longest time there were no survivors.” His attitude became suddenly grave as he wrapped his arm about my shoulders and pulled me against his side like an older brother. In a low rumble he said, “My deepest condolences. Having lost many of my brethren on the field of battle, I know how hard it is to try and carry on through the heartache. I hope everyone here in Kyoto has been treating you well, at least.”

Tucked under his arm like this, I could feel his heartbeat against the back of my shoulder, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. Still, he was at least trying to be friendly. “Kyoto has been wonderful” I said with a simple smile. “People have been very hospitable to me. There are so many beautiful sights, and the countryside is so picturesque. Plus, Renji – my father-in-law – gave me a job at this company, and the routine has made things feel a little more normal.”

“Good, that’s excellent!” Tetsuo enthused, his spirits lifting back into boisterous comradery as he jostled my shoulder. I grinned in imitation of laughter. Then he leaned a little closer till I could feel the heat of his cheek against my temple. There was a faint whiff of something like cloves on his skin. “But you know, Hiro-san, too much routine isn’t always a good thing. Do you get much chance to travel outside the city?”

I had been trying all this time to keep my posture fairly firm, but he weight of his muscly arm kept drawing me irresistibly closer. The full length of my thigh up to the knee was pressed against his thick leg, and I was having to brace my arm against his waist to keep from falling into his lap. My smile was starting to feel pretty forced as I replied, “As I mentioned, I do like to take walks in the countryside where things are quieter.”

“Ahh! Then Kyoto is the only city you’ve seen in all this great nation?” Tetsuo asked with a hint of incredulity.

I glanced toward the other men sitting in our circle, but none of them seemed to think anything of Tetsuo’s over eagerness. “It is.”

“Well then…” A moment of relief when Tetsuo let go of me was soon spoiled as he adjusted his grip and tugged me closer with an arm around my back and his hand on my bicep. I made a point not to look him in the eyes so he wouldn’t see my irritation. “What say I take you on a trip to Edo here in the coming weeks?”

My head spun for just a moment. Aside from his personality and his lack of etiquette, _that _was too much. Even for the skinship of a hot spring, that was too forward, and I sorely wanted to tell him off for it. The only reason I didn’t was all the other men clustered nearby – Itsuki’s husband among them – who might think ill of me if I was rude to their only samurai among their companions. It had taken so much work to earn their respect and acceptance in the first place.

I was about to deliver a suitably noncommittal answer when the man sitting at Tetsuo’s left, who couldn’t have been much younger than myself (and whose name I’d already managed to forget) leaned forward and caught my eye. “Don’t be too quick to accept out of politeness,” he said with a grin. “He’ll really do it. He took me on a trip to Hokkaido two years ago. Such gestures aren’t just idle courtesies when Oda no Tetsuo makes them.” I hadn’t even entertained the thought that it _was_. Not with him holding me like a bag of rice he hoped to sneak off with.

“He took me on a trip to Honshu the year before that,” contributed another member of the group.

“He gave me a very fine bottle of shochu just yesterday,” added another. Looking out at the men’s admiring glances, I perceived the need to treat Tetsuo politely. Saying that I found his friendliness intimidating would surely not go over well.

Being as earnest as I could manage, I gave him a regretful smile and said, “That’s so generous of you! Thank you, Tetsuo-dono, but… my wife might be concerned that, this being such short notice…”

To my relief, he backed off without a fuss. “Of course, no trouble,” he said simply, leaning back against the wall. I had just enough time to relax before Tetsuo sat back up, pulled my shoulder against him yet again, and said, “In that case, Hiro-san, sometime before my vacation ends, you _must _come over to-”

“Good evening, Haruko-san!” said about half the men in our circle with such neat unison that it caught even Tetsuo’s attention.

Sure enough, my wife was wading over to us. “Good evening.” She nodded to the group at large, then fixed her sights on me. “Hiroshi-kun, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s somebody over here who wants to meet you.”

“Of course!” It was all I could do to keep from leaping toward my rescuer. But I made sure to turn around and bow to the others before leaving. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you all. I’ll see you later.” _Much later, with any luck_.

“See you around,” said the samurai with a grin and a wink. His face betrayed no disappointment at my sudden departure, but – was that a hint of irritation in his voice?

Haruko cast a glance over her shoulder as she led me away. “I hadn’t heard that Oda no Tetsuo was back from his deployment. He must have only just returned.”

I couldn’t pick up any subtext in her tone. “He seems very… friendly,” I hazarded.

“He certainly is that.” That time, I got it. It wasn’t active dislike, but there was just a hint of distaste concerning Tetsuo. That made me feel a little validated, if nothing else.

Haruko brought me over to the cluster of friends’ she’d gone to meet up with earlier. The women ranged in age from about 25 to 40 for the most part, with the exception of 3 girls in the 16 to 19 range who formed a distinct group within the group. I’d met all of them before, save for one of the girls in the younger trio.

It was to this girl Haruko introduced me, saying, “This is my niece, Tomo-chan! She had to head back to Honshu the day after your arrival in Kyoto and has been lamenting that she never got to see you in person.”

I gave her a slight bow, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you, Tomo-chan.”

She nodded back. “Nice to meet you, Oniisan.” _How shy. _

In an effort to lighten my own mood as much as anyone’s, I splayed a lock of my hair out to the side and teased, “So, am I all that you imagined?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out, one of her friends cut in, “Well you aren’t single anymore, so…”

This prompted a brief bout of laughter, along with a splash-fight between the two girls. After that, though, the conversation turned to other matters with remarkable rapidity. Before long, I was able to just sit back and let the others take over the conversation. Haruko rubbed my shoulder affectionately, and we smiled at each other.

Allowing myself to unwind after my… somewhat stressful conversation with Oda no Tetsuo, I squatted down and submerged myself for a few seconds beneath the water. Then I came back up, ran my hands through my hair, wiped the excess water droplets from my face… and then tried to make sure I hadn’t gotten water in my ear. It didn’t _feel _as if I had, but all the voices around me seemed like a distant and incomprehensible mush. It was kind of like…

_Oh god no… Not now. Please not now… _

Almost the instant I realized what was happening, my hearing honed in on a point behind me, and I heard Tetsuo speak up. “…thing else, isn’t he?” he said, louder than a whisper but not so loud as to be overheard by anyone outside his circle.

“You really are getting fixated on that one,” teased a man who I didn’t recognize. “I didn’t want to say it earlier, but you were getting as handsy with Sato-san as you do with the girls. Were you picturing him as a tavern mistress or something?” This got a round of laughter from the other men.

“You don’t know Aniki’s[3] tastes that well,” Suirou contributed. “Shrine maidens are more his thing.” More laughter, along with a few noises of agreement and approval.

“But seriously, Aniki,” came another voice I couldn’t place, “I was half-waiting for you to grab his ass for a minute there.” This remark earned some especially pointed snickers.

Tetsuo returned a good-natured chuckle, then replied, “No, it wouldn’t have done to scare him off too quickly.”

I could hear the mirth bleeding out of the voices nearest him. Then one of them said, “Uh, Aniki… you _do _know that that’s a man, right?”

“Is it?” said the samurai dismissively. “Hardly noticed. So _little _evidence of it.” More chuckles, not entirely reassured.

“I mean granted,” pressed this most recent speaker. “But still, he’s _not _a woman, however much he may look like one. It’s not like one can…” He tailed off meaningfully.

“Of course one can,” answered the samurai with confidence.

The surprised muttering had barely started before another voice broke in to Tetsuo’s defense. “It’s quite true. I’ve tried it myself with a few sprightly lads. It’s not as different as you might think.” I couldn’t put a name to the voice, but I did recognize it. He was a pawnbroker, so sleazy and repugnant that he might have provided the reference for Itsuki’s man-costume.

There was an awkward silence before Tetsuo spoke up in reasonable, persuasive tones. “Look, think it over; what makes Hiro-chan so different from a woman?” My blood went cold at hearing him address me with that feminine epithet. “His genitals? They’re hardly big enough to see, let alone worry about. No breasts? Well, I’ve never minded flat-chested girls myself, and I know plenty of you don’t either, going by who you married. That he doesn’t have a cunt?” Here he paused to let out a rumbling chuckle. “You’d have to be pretty unadventurous not to know that even a proper woman has got more holes than just that. A girl’s anus can be just as tight as her cunt, and a _boy’s _anus is even tighter because he fights it more vigorously.”

There was a long, contemplative silence before the man who’d been so squeamish earlier spoke up again. “I dunno… I mean, I feel like doing it in a guy’s ass would just remind me too much that it’s not a-”

“So do it in his mouth, then,” the samurai cut in flippantly. “Then, you can look into those enchanting eyes while Hiro-chan sucks you and imagine that you’re fucking the mouth of a goddess.”

There was a buzzing as the men considered this idea with interest. A man who hadn’t spoken up yet said falteringly, “But I mean… I’ve got a wife already… and so has Sato, for that matter.”

“_So_?” said Tetsuo, barely restraining a laugh. “You afraid his woman’s gonna find out? _She’s _not using his ass for anything, is she?”

“Besides,” the sleazy pawn broker contributed, “it’s not really cheating when it’s with men. If Sato-chan were really a girl I might understand your worry, but with a boy? It’s more like… getting a little relief.”

“And it’s not like Hiro-chan’s going to object,” said Tetsuo, sounding more and more triumphant by the minute. “You can see him sitting there with the other women right now. That smooth, hairless skin, that slender body, that narrow waist, and that glassy black hair… Boys, with a dick that small, do you really think he gets _any _fulfillment sleeping with his woman? Please… A body as womanly as that _needs _a man’s touch. We’d be doing him a favor if we satisfied him with our manly touch. I’ll bet he’d be so grateful, not only would he keep it our little secret, he’d probably come back asking for more.”

In the silence that followed, my stomach twisted itself up in knots. _Say something! _I wanted to scream. _This is wrong! One of you, please, tell him to stop! Say that it’s wrong! Why are you all just listening? You can’t seriously be thinking about… _

“What about you, Sosuke?” Tetsuo pressed. I remembered Sosuke – he was the youngest one in the group. “Just turned 18, didn’t you? You gotten your dick wet, yet?” Even with my enhanced hearing, I couldn’t decipher the mumbled reply. “Well damn, son, you’re at least 3 years behind schedule! I thought for sure you’d have a girl by the time I got back from my deployment. Your balls must be aching! I bet _you _aren’t feeling too fussy about Hiro-chan’s little ‘gender issue.’”

There was an expectant pause, then he mumbled just loud enough to be heard, “I wanted my first time to be with a girl, but… I guess if it’s with_ Sato the Beautiful_, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Atta boy!” Tetsuo enthused. “Tell you what, birthday boy. I wouldn’t ordinarily do this, but since it’s your first time _and _your birthday, I’ll let be generous and let you have the first go at his ass. I’ll just loosen him up a little with my fingers first, and then you can get right in there and have your way with him.”

“Oh, wow! Thanks, Aniki!” said Sosuke. He sounded as though he’d just been promised the first batch of _sakuramochi_.

“Now slow down there, you two,” interjected the sleazy pawn broker. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. First we’ve gotta find some way to get alone with him.”

_I have to get out of here,_ I thought. _I have to get out… it’s not safe here. I have to get away from them… _But I couldn’t move. My stomach churned so violently, I was afraid any sudden movement would make me spill all my bile into the water. My vision had become a mist of white and gray, and my skin crawled with a thousand awful memories that had been burned into my skin.

“That’s the easiest part of the whole affair,” the samurai laughed with easy humor. “Two of you can come with me now, and we’ll get ourselves a table at that good soba restaurant that we went to last time. The rest of you entice Hiro-chan to join us for some… manly company. With a full stomach and a few bottles of wine or sake, he’ll be _very _agreeable, and we can entice him to stay the night at my townhouse. Suirou, he came in with you, right?”

Suirou stammered a little as though not expecting to be addressed. “I, uh… well yes.”

“Good! Then you’re a friend of his. You can be the one to invite him.” Tetsuo paused, and I thought I heard him starting to get up. “You _are _with us, right Suirou?”

“O-of course, Aniki! It’s just, uh… we came with our wives as well.”

The samurai clicked his tongue in irritation. “That’s not even an obstacle. That just makes _you _the ideal candidate since you can smooth things out with the ladies. Don’t let us down, Matsuda!”

“C’mon bro, you’ve got to!” interjected Sosuke, now fully on board with the scheme. “I-”

I suddenly became aware of somebody shaking me by the shoulder. I held up a trembling arm defensively, but it took a few seconds before my vision swam back into focus. Then, as the episode gave way to my normal hearing again, I saw Haruko and the others crowding around me. Deep concern was writ on all their faces.

“Hiro-kun,” Haruko said, her voice muffled as though underwater for a moment. Then, as though my head had broken surface, I heard her saying, “Hiro-kun, are you alright? Can you hear me? It’s Haruko.”

Voice dry as paper, I wheezed, “I hear you.”

“Hiro-kun, you’re shaking!” she said, alarmed. My skin crawled at the touch of her fingers on my shoulder.

“He looks pale as death,” said one of the other women. “Is Sato-kun sick?”

“Maybe he’s been in too long?” offered one of the girls.

“Impossible,” Itsuki said. “We all got in at the same time.”

“N-no,” I stammered, trying to subtly edge away. “S-she’s right. I sometimes have… dizzy spells in the heat… I p-probably just overdid it a little.” I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice quavered distressingly. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the rest of the men were still engrossed in their discussion. They wouldn’t need much longer, though. I needed to slip away while they were all still distracted. “Um… I think I’d better go home and lie down,” I said, inching toward the exit.

“You’re right,” Haruko said. “Let’s head out.”

“N-n-no, no!” I waved my hand abortively as she moved to follow. “It’s okay, I can get home by myself.”

“Hiro-kun,” she started with a hint of reproach.

“No, really,” I assured, smiling as best I could and forcibly injecting some lightness into my voice. “I swear I’m okay. As soon as I start to cool down, I’ll feel better. Please, Haru-chan, it’s your birthday and you haven’t seen these friends in ages. Stay here a while longer. I’ll make sure the cook has something nice waiting when you get home.”

Haruko bit her lip reluctantly. I could tell from the looks Itsuki and the others were giving me that they thought this rather inadvisable. So before she could turn to seek out their council, I concluded, “It’s what I want, Haruko.”

Haruko, unused to hearing me speak so forcefully, was taken aback. After a moment, she relented. “Alright… But I won’t be much longer. Just be careful on your way back. Take things slow, alright?”

I tried to rectify my brusqueness with a smile. “Thank you, Haru-chan. I will. See you soon.” I was careful to keep my face a reassuring mask until I had my back to them. Tetsuo appeared to be putting some finishing touches to his speech, and the men never saw me wading away. One of the bathhouse’s attendants noticed me, though, and he was waiting with a fresh towel at the lip of the hot spring. I couldn’t have been more relieved.

Truth be told, I _didn’t _want to walk home alone. I wanted Haruko to stay with me. I knew that trying to leave on my own, when Tetsuo and his posse were nearby and eager to get me alone, was risky and foolish. The smartest thing would have been to stay close to Haruko, wait for Tetsuo to come make his invitation, and turn him down as politely as possible. It occurred to me well after the fact that I even had a valid excuse; I could say that I had dinner plans for my wife’s birthday. You must be thinking to yourself even now that I was being unbelievably stupid, and I can’t disagree with you.

So why did I do it?

Because… I was hard. I was completely hard. Hard as a rock. It was almost a year since Yasha had let me go, and still I my body was conditioned to respond to his words and his touch. Tetsuo… in his manner, his voice, and his too-familiar touching, called my mind vividly back to my years of abuse at the hands of my former husband. Listening to those men as they conspired to rape me, I had felt Yasha’s fingers on my skin, his breath on my neck and ears, his legs spreading my knees apart, and my anus clenching in anticipation of his member. I would rather die than let anyone witness my shame – that even after a year of freedom, my body _still _believed that it was his slave. Or more likely, I’d be branded a pervert and bring disgrace upon my family.

So I had to escape before anyone saw. Thankfully the water was murky, and my penis was… small enough to be unobtrusive. So with the towel the attendant passed to me, I was able to hide my crotch, dash off to retrieve my clothes, and then find a discreet place to get dressed before it was learned I’d had an erection in a public bath.

I’d heard Tetsuo and a handful of other men talking and laughing as they walked down the slope, passing right by my hiding spot. It would have been enormously helpful just then for my enhanced hearing to kick in so I could keep track of the others. No such luck. The damn curse never activated on command for me. I would have to rely on my mundane hearing. I waited a good two or three minutes after Tetsuo’s voice had faded to make sure he and his boys wouldn’t turn around and spot me by chance.

The path down the slope was surprisingly empty. It was about the time of night when everybody who planned to visit the bathhouse had already arrived, and very few of those who’d arrived were ready to leave so early. This would be my best chance. I stepped out of my hiding place behind some foliage, started down the path, turned around the first corner, and practically stumbled straight into Suirou and five others.

I nearly tripped in my shock, but Inomata no Suirou was quick to catch me by the shoulders, a warm smile stretched over his features. “Here you are, Hiro-san!” he said with false warmth. “We’d _hoped _you’d only gone off to change somewhere more secluded.”

_God damn it! _It must not have taken them long to notice my disappearance. They must have come out right on my heels, realized that I couldn’t have gotten dressed and departed _that _quickly, then stationed themselves where I’d have to walk by. And they’d kept their ambush so damn quiet!

I struggled to keep the panic out of my voice. “Y-yeah, I’m… not feeling very well.”

“I thought it was something like that,” Suirou said, nodding understandingly. “You _do _look awfully pale, and you’ve got the shakes. You might slip, walking down the mountain in this state!” He came up and put his bony arm around my shoulder to hold me steady and lead my steps.

“You know what I think it is?” said one of Suirou’s companions. “Hunger pangs.”

Suirou snapped his fingers emphatically. “That’s just it! Hiro-san hasn’t had a bite to eat since noon.” There was a theatrical air to Suirou’s words that would have made me suspicious even if I hadn’t overheard their plans. And earlier he’d been the only one to dispute the samurai’s plan – however weakly. What had Tetsuo even said to get Suirou so eager to participate?

My mouth was going dry. I looked around at them all. Some hid their lust better than others, but none could conceal it entirely. The way Suirou’s thin, stick-like fingers poked into my bicep felt lewd and possessive. By increments, they were positioning themselves around me.

“Well, you’re just in luck!” said Sosuke. Apparently ‘birthday boy’ was one of those in charge of escorting me. From this close, I could discern the half-erect bulge tenting the front of his hakama. “Tetsuo-aniki just invited us all for soba and drinks. His treat! Come eat with us and hang out! You’ll feel great afterwards.”

I had to remain hunched over so my erection would stay away from the front of my kimono. If any of them realized that I was hard, they’d use it as proof and believe whatever they wanted. “I-I… I just need to g-g-get home… lie down…”

“Come now, a bite to eat first!” Suirou insisted as he pulled me along. “Besides, the shop is closer than your house anyway. If you’re really too, too tired, Aniki said he was already thinking about renting out a private room, and they’ll let you sleep there.”

My mind was like a split thread forking off in two separate directions. One was focused on keeping my body upright and giving the impression that I hadn’t lost my sanity. The other was fighting to claw its way out of terrible, vivid flashbacks of the Underworld before I lost my sanity. There was no way to share my attention between the two and improvise a means of escape at the same time. I tried to dig my heels into the ground, but another man came up, wrapped his arm around my waist, and helped to drag me along. Any moment now, I thought I was going to faint.

“Hiro-kun!” Haruko’s voice cut through my haze of terror and brought my kidnappers up short. She and Itsuki were rushing down the slope toward us. Hope for rescue fought against my fear and shame as they approached. “Oh my god, Hiro-kun!” Panic was edging into Haru’s voice as she saw the two men whose help I – apparently – needed to remain upright. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

The men on my right let go of my waist self-consciously and took a step back. Suirou still held onto me, but I could sense the anxiety in his pulse. “No, no, it’s not what you think! He’s… he’s alright,” he said, trying his damnedest to sound casual. “We were just saying he must be… hungry, you know? Famished, that’s it.”

There was a pause. “Hungry,” Haruko repeated. It wasn’t exactly a question. “Hiro-kun said it was the heat getting to him.”

Suirou swallowed. Somebody discreetly nudged him to keep talking. He started haltingly, but his voice gained confidence with every word. “Yeah, well… an… empty stomach will make one susceptible to heat and all kinds of simple ailments. You can see, even after cooling off, he still isn’t feeling well – he needs something to settle his stomach. That’s why we were just taking him to get some soba.”

‘_He’s lying!_’ I needed to say, but staying on my feed was the most I could manage. My chest was so tight, I couldn’t make a sound. It was like a nightmare.

“Soba?” Haruko asked, perplexed.

“Always does the trick for me!” Sosuke said before somebody pinched him to keep quiet.

“A bite to eat should be just the thing,” Suirou said, hoping to maneuver himself out of the conversation as quickly as possible. “So don’t you ladies worry – Hiro-san is in good hands.”

Throughout this whole exchange, while Haruko’s eyes were flitting constantly between Suirou and myself, Itsuki had been roving her shrewd gaze over the faces of every man in the group, trying to read their expressions. At last, she turned her gaze on me. I was still paralyzed by fear and shame, but Itsuki’s hard eyes seemed to demand, ‘_Tell me the truth, Hiroshi_.’

In desperation, unable to work my voice, I simply mouthed, “Help me…”

Perfect realization spread across her face in an instant. She was cognizant of my plight. Without removing her eyes from mine, she said, “You bastard.”

This startled everyone, including Haruko. Then, face crumpling into a contentious frown, Itsuki directed her gaze at her husband and repeated louder, “You bastard! You dumbass! Soba? The man is so ill he can hardly stand upright, and you want to feed him _soba_? Are you stupid?”

The men all lapsed into an irritable silence, except for Suirou who cowered before his wife, trying to stammer out more excuses. “Well I… I just thought-”

“What?! What did you think?” demanded Itsuki, advancing a step with hands on hips. “And anyway, since when do you know anything about sick care? Just last month when Yoko-chan had the sniffles, I couldn’t get you to lift a finger to help. Said you ‘didn’t want to get in the way’! But now, Sato is sick, and suddenly you think you’re the doctor! Do you think I’m blind?” Her voice rose until she was almost shouting. “You think I was born yesterday? It’s _perfectly _clear what you and your unscrupulous gang were up to!”

The irritation I’d been sensing from the other men suddenly went cold with the fear of discovery. Haruko looked at Itsuki with barely-concealed curiosity. I was afraid of what she was going to say next, but Itsuki was drawing out the suspense, passing her glare around to each man in turn. “You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” she snarled, and every one of them cringed. Then, looking directly into her husband’s eyes, she hissed decisively, “You were about to get Hiro-san all liquored up and them ask him for money, weren’t you? You rat-faced bastard!”

After all that buildup, the men were practically relieved to hear her level an accusation that was so far off the mark. Suirou stifled a sigh, then said, “No, Tsuki-chan, that’s not-”

“_Don’t lie to me, Sui!_” shouted Itsuki, striding forward with hand raised as if she meant to strike her husband. “I expect better from you! Don’t you go trying to worm your way out of this now!” Suirou shrank back, and I was pulled along with him.

At last, the hot-headed 18-year-old came forward. “Look, auntie, this is our own business. Why don’t you just-”

“And you!” Itsuki smartly reached out and grabbed the boy by the ear. “What are you doing up here, Sosuke? Does your mother know you’re out this late? Does she knows what kind of disreputable people you’re mingling with?”

Sosuke whined and tried to get his ear back. “I don’t _need _to tell her anything. And besides, today’s my birthday! I’m-”

She dragged him even closer. “Then you should be spending it at home with your family! Now go home! Scram!” With that, she wheeled him around and gave him a kick on the seat to send him skidding down the slope. “As for the rest of you!” They all straightened up fearfully. Then Itsuki reached out, placed her hand between my shoulder blades, and gently extricated me from her husband’s arm. “You all, get lost. Go have your soba and your booze and leave tending of the sick to the _experts_.” Dismissing the men from her attention, she held my shoulders protectively and nodded to Haruko. “Come on, Haru-chan. Let’s bring Hiro-san home and get him some soup.”

That was where my memory gave out. The next thing I remember was eating seaweed soup at home. My mind must have needed a moment to shut down and cool itself. I later learned that as soon as Haruko and Itsuki had escorted me as far as the bottom of the slope, I demanded very rudely that they let go of me and walked the rest of the way home with head bowed and arms folded. I stumbled once, and Itsuki reached out a hand to steady me, but I slapped her hand away and repeated my demand not to be touched.

Haruko, by tugging at my sleeve and speaking softly, managed to coax me into the dining room, and our cook brought us each a bowl of nori and miso soup. It was halfway through this bowl that my memory resumed. It was too soon. Inevitably, I had to ask myself, “How did I get here just now?”

As clearly as if it were whispered into my ear, I heard the samurai’s words: ‘_A body as womanly as that _needs_ a man’s touch._’ My hand fell onto the table, and the spoon slipped out. Haruko looked at me in alarm. “Hiro-kun?”

“I have to lie down,” I said abruptly, pushing myself up to my feet.

“Would you like to finish eating it in bed?” Haruko asked reasonably, poising herself to stand.

“I can’t…” Somehow, I managed to keep the nausea and vertigo out of my voice. “You finish eating, Haru-chan… I just need a minute.”

Her eyes practically crushed me with their tender pity. “… okay…” The resignation in her voice was heart-rending, but I couldn’t bring myself to slow down and comfort her.

I went down the hallway as quickly as I could, but it felt like the world was spinning around me. Voices that I did not hear husked lascivious threats into my head. I clutched at the front of my kimono as though afraid a gust of wind would tear it open. When I reached the bedroom, my stumbling feet passed right over our futon, and I dropped to my knees in front of our drawer with the large, round mirror atop it. Even before Haruko and I got married, her skill with makeup had given me the courage to face my reflection. She’d even taught me how to apply it myself.

So many times since our wedding night, we’d sat before this mirror together, and I’d looked into my peacock-hued eyes without fear. We’d looked just like a beautiful husband and wife. Many times, I’d sat alone before the mirror, examined my soft features, and smirked at what a simple thing it was to harden them into masculine lines. I’d come to recognize this face as the face of Haruko’s husband.

Now, staring into those ethereal eyes, watching the unpainted, geisha-like face as it shivered and panted like a whore on the brink of climax, I couldn’t believe I thought I could fool anyone. All it took was one man… one lustful samurai with ambitions of conquest to turn a dozen men against me. They didn’t say no to him. They hardly made an argument. Because deep down, they wanted me. They lusted after this face. They lusted after my pale, hairless body. They lay awake many-a-night thinking about me. They touched themselves while remembering my face. Perhaps they even thought of me when they slept with their wives.

My hands gripped the edge of the drawer as I grimaced hatefully before my reflection. _Damn you, Yasha! You did this to me! You sculpted this face to bewitch those bastards! You did this! Curse you! _“DAMN YOU!” I threw my fist into the center of the mirror.

My knuckles seemed to crack with pain a moment after the glass did. A multi-faceted spiderweb of half-reflections stared back at me, and I saw my abominable eyes fanned out and staring like the eyes of a peacock’s tail feathers – except for the gaps where a few shards of the mirror had fallen out of the frame and fell tinkling onto the top of the drawer. Miserably, I lowered my head and pressed my aching palm against my tear-stained face. I couldn’t choke back my sobs. My skin tingled with the cold of hysteria. _Curse this damned, tempter’s face… _

Through the blur of tears, something glinting on top of the drawer caught my eye. I blinked, peered closer, and perceived it. It was a shard of glass as long as the blade of a hunting knife. My panicked breathing slowed while my heart pounded louder. _This face_… I reached my uninjured left hand out.

_This wretched face_… My fingers closed around the wider end of the shard, lifting it with just enough pressure to keep it from destroying my hand.

_Nobody would ever want to violate me if not for this damned face! _Looking again at the shattered mirror, I saw resolution blazing in the eyes that stared back at me. A set of running feet approached down the hallway while I lined up the point of the shard with my cheek.

“Hiro-kun!” my wife was calling. In what I could see of the reflection, there was a blur of motion over my shoulder, and the door slid open. “Hi… ro…” her voice trailed off.

I didn’t spare her a glance. “Don’t look at me, Haru-chan,” I said calmly. I squeezed, and the glass bit into my fingers. “Don’t watch what I’m about to do…” Gritting my teeth, I steadied my left hand by gripping my wrist with my aching right hand, then thrust the point of the glass into my cheek.

Before the point could touch my skin, a pair of hands appeared on my arm.

“Hiroshi, stop!” Haruko screamed. She had dropped to her knees at my side, bracing my bicep and elbow against her chest. She pulled on my elbow with one hand and pushed at the inside of my forearm with the other. My hand couldn’t reach my face.

I fought back with all my strength, snarling at the hated face in the mirror. “Let go of me…”

“Hiro-kun, don’t do this!” Haruko cried, bracing her elbow against my ribs to keep my arm at bay. Her soft body felt like the wall of a cliff scraping against my shoulder. I squeezed the jagged shard even tighter to keep it from slipping out of my blood-slickened hand. “Please, Hiro-kun! I can help you! You don’t have to do this! _Let me help you_!”

I jerked my arm with a fresh burst of effort, and the point crept a finger’s breadth closer, but then Haruko pulled it back again. “_Get off me!_” I screamed. “You don’t know what it’s like! I have to do this! I hate this fucking face! _I hate it!_”

“Hiroshi, please!” She was audibly sobbing, and it’s hard to say which of us was shaking more. I could swear I felt the edges of the glass biting my fingers right down to the bone. The hot damp of blood was soaking through my left thigh as it dripped from my fist.

“I hate this face!” I screamed. With each moment that that perfect, unmarred visage stared back at me, the more terrible was my need to escape from it. I felt like a wounded animal. My heart felt ready to burst from sheer desperation. “I hate it! I hate this face that makes men lust for me! I wish I were ugly!” The glass wavered as I strained against my wife’s grip. “I wish nobody ever looked at me! I wish I were too hideous to look at!”

“Hiro-kun!” she wailed.

“I’LL KILL THIS FACE!” I roared, trying to drown out her voice. “I swear, I’ll destroy it! I won’t be his perfect doll any longer! I won’t be what that beast made me! I won’t-”

“LET IT GO, HIROSHI!”

Why, in the depths of my madness, those should have been the words to calm me is beyond sense. I didn’t understand it then, and I don’t now. I wasn’t even sure if she was talking about the painful memories, or just the shard in my hand. But at those words, my panic shattered like a bad dream. My arm remained stiff, but I stopped trying to stab myself with the shard. In the broken mirror, I stared at myself with wide-eyed incomprehension. _What am I doing? _

Beside me, Haruko was a trembling wreck. She was terrified. That part of my sleeve that wasn’t soaked with my own blood was wet with her tears. She continued to brace herself against my arm, ready to stop me if I tried to stab myself again. “Please,” she moaned, “Let it go, Hiroshi…” She leaned in closer, and her voice dropped into a whisper. “_Just let it go._”

With an effort, I uncurled my lacerated fingers. The shard of glass fell and clattered back into the dresser. Haruko threw her arms around my shoulders and buried her sobbing face in my neck.

“M’lady!” called a masculine voice, accompanied by the sound of running feet. “M’lady Haruko! M…” In the open doorway, none other than Renji’s guard, Hanzo, appeared with a katana in hand. He stared for a second, dumbfounded, until he met my gaze in the mirror. Then his eyes blazed, and he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. “M’lady, are you hurt? What has this _bakemono_ done to you?”

Haruko drew back with a sharp hiccup in place of a gasp and threw a glance at Hanzo. “_What_?! Are you stupid?”

Hanzo’s hands slackened, and he nearly dropped his sword. “I… What?”

“My husband is hurt!” she exclaimed. Then, when Hanzo continued to stare at her in dumb shock, she shrieked, “A doctor, you imbecile! Get a doctor for my husband this instant! Or I’ll take that sword from you and have your scrotum for a coin purse!”

That got him moving. Hanzo stumbled back, tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass, then scrambled upright and went running out of the house, crying for a doctor. That settled, Haruko returned her attention to me, pulling me close to rest her chin on my shoulder. Her tears resumed, but the moment of crisis was over.

Weakly, I encircled her waist in my arms, letting my hands simply hang limp at the wrists. I was sobbing too, and the air hung thick with our anguish. At length, I wept out a choked, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Haruko…”

Haruko drew back and held my face in her hands. Her own face was a blotchy patchwork of red and white, her eyes red and puffy, her hair in disarray. “Hiroshi…” she whimpered. Then she injected a little more strength into her voice. “Hiro-kun, listen to me. I know… the bare bones of what happened to you. Back when you were still having nightmares, my father told me what you told him… and what he guessed.” I dropped my head as a wave of shame rolled over me, but then Haruko shook my shoulders just slightly. “No – look at me. Look at me!”

Guiltily, I lifted my head and looked into her pale brown eyes. She held me firmly and spoke in a gentle voice. “Hiroshi… None of us hate you. None of us blame you. None of us hold you at fault for what happened to you. The only reason I’ve waited this long to say anything is because I wanted you to tell me on your own terms… I wanted you to have a chance to trust me.” Her lip trembled, and she brushed a thumb under my eyes. “I love you, Hiro-kun… I love you. So does my father, and my mother too. We’re your _family_, Hiro-kun… We only want what’s best for you. You don’t have to hide from us. Please…” She slid closer, encircling my shoulders in her arms. “Don’t keep me in the dark anymore, Hiroshi… It tears me up to see you hurting like this and to be shut out. Even if there’s nothing in the world I can do to save you, I would rather share in your suffering than watch you agonize alone when you’re surrounded by people who love you.”

Her words…

It was the best kind of pain. It was excruciating, the way they dug into my wounded and scar-riddled heart like salt… but like salt which purifies. I hung my head over her shoulder and wept while her hands rubbed my back. Haruko whispered soothing nothings to me, and her heart sounded so full and strong as it pounded against my chest.

Slowly, I held my left hand out and looked at the hand I’d so butchered while trying to harm my face. A strange feeling of déjà vu came over me as I stared at that blood-covered hand. Red streaked down my arm in rivulets. My littlest finger was by far the worst injured. The glass had dug in right at the knuckle and nearly severed the tip. As I watched, a steady strand of blood trickled down from it like a… red… string…

At my sudden lurch, Haruko must have feared that I was diving for the glass again, and she screamed my name. Instead, I dove for the gap beside the dresser and blasted the contents of my stomach onto the tatami mats. Haruko didn’t retreat even then. She held me about the chest, and her other hand rubbed me between the shoulders, keeping me calm and steady until the doctor arrived.

[1] Keita’s family

[2] Itsuki’s family

[3] A casual form of ‘big brother,’ roughly analogous to ‘bro’ in English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... What? You're not satisfied with that ending? 
> 
> .... oh, alright. Refresh in about half an hour and I'll have posted the Conclusion
> 
> Edit: 
> 
> Okay, here's the final chapter for real this time, please don't kill me >////< https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882910

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to chat, network, or get more updates about upcoming chapters of the Beautiful Beast, you can follow me on twitter @IsuSeal  
You can also now contact me on discord! Why not? https://discord.gg/H4MJ4RU
> 
> Questions and comments are always greatly appreciated!


End file.
